


Monster Under the Bed

by Kizmet



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Diverges prior to "Lancelot and Guinevere, Gen, Kid Fic, Magic Revealed, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizmet/pseuds/Kizmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To protect Arthur without exposing his magic Merlin allows himself to be the victim of a vengeful sorcerer's spell. Too bad the spell turns him into back into a small child and children aren't exactly known for their discretion. Now both Merlin and Arthur will find themselves facing the fears installed in their childhoods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: For Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: “Merlin” is the property of Shine Television. I’m just borrowing for a little non-profit fun.

‘There were days when it just didn’t pay to get out of bed,’ Merlin thought.  ‘Many, many days.’

For three long weeks Arthur had been strengthening Camelot’s diplomatic relations by visiting the estates of outlying nobles.  For the duration of the mission Merlin had made a heroic effort to act like a proper servant and not do anything that reflected poorly on his Prince.  The inside of his cheeks were raw from the number of times he’d had to bite back a sarcastic comment.

Now that Arthur’s retinue was finally headed back toward Camelot after a successful tour, by all rights, they should have been able to relax.  Arthur had planned to separate from the main party along with Merlin and a few of his younger knights and make the trip home a hunting trip.  Normally Merlin wasn’t exactly what one could call fond of hunting trips but in this case anything that got him away from the pompous, self-important advisors Uther had sent along was a godsend.

In Merlin’s opinion, the courtiers Uther had chosen to advise Arthur were only a bit better than Uther himself.  They couldn’t order him to the stocks or the gallows, but Merlin was certain they were keeping lists of his every failure of decorum to present to Uther once they were back.  Merlin would cheerfully spend a week trudging after Arthur through the forest laden with crossbow, spear and several dead animal carcasses if it meant freedom from the constant disdainful and disapproving stares of Uther’s old-guard.  Unfortunately those self-same stuffy courtiers were fearful of bandits and of splitting the party’s strength.  In the end Arthur was forced to bow to their fears.  Which hadn’t done anything for the Prince’s mood.  So Merlin had been left to deal with both the courtiers and a foul tempered Arthur.

As if that wasn’t enough to make Merlin’s life miserable, the weather had gotten into the act.  A day’s ride into their trek home and they’d been caught in an early snow storm.  Given the mood Arthur was in, it hadn’t surprised Merlin in the slightest when he’d insisted that they push on regardless of the weather. ‘Perhaps that last duke’s spoiled-brat of a marriageable daughter had a bit to do with Arthur’s decision not to turn back,’ Merlin allowed.

And, of course, there was the vengeful sorcerer who’d ambushed them.  But really that went without saying in Merlin’s life.  Bitter magic-users who thought killing Arthur would make them feel better about everything Uther had subjected them to were as common as fleas on a dog in Camelot, and just as aggravating.

As the sorcerer chanted Merlin glanced around for a branch, rock or other inconspicious means of rendering their attacker unconscious.  There was nothing and no time left.  The sorcerer raised his hand menacingly.  Merlin found himself left with the option of blocking the sorcerer’s spell with his own magic or stepping in front of Arthur and shielding him from the spell with his body.  It was either take his chances with the spell or with Uther, because allowing the spell to hit Arthur simply wasn’t an option.

Merlin stepped in front of Arthur.  The spell engulfed him.  Merlin screamed as it ripped at the bonds holding him together.  For a long moment he feared the spell would unmake him.  Then Merlin’s magic surged, reacting instinctually to the attach on his person.

  
  



	2. Second Childhood: Part I

Arthur, his entourage and even the sorcerer froze as the spell’s malevolent energy wrapped around Merlin.  Then it seemed as if another energy inserted itself between Merlin and the spell.  The two forces warred briefly then exploded in a burst of white light that left everyone blinking spots from their eyes.  Once his vision cleared, Arthur found himself staring at a small boy who was standing where his manservant had been a moment earlier.  The sorcerer looked as stunned as the rest of them by the result of his spell.  He frowned at the boy in confusion then shook his head and turned his attention back to his original target.

Disappearing servants and appearing children only slightly phased Arthur’s battle-trained reflexes.  In a heartbeat, the prince’s sword was in his hand and he lunged.  A sweep of his arm pushed the boy to the side and he buried his sword in the still baffled sorcerer’s chest.  With the recent memory of Ealdor and Kanen’s last act in mind, Arthur drove the sorcerer to his knees and twisted the blade in the man’s chest, opening a gapping hole.  This time out Arthur was making damned sure his enemy was dead before turning his back; he wouldn’t see another person die for his lack of thoroughness.

The boy’s wide blue eyes flew from Arthur’s dripping sword to the sorcerer’s entrails, steaming in the wintery air, to the profusion of crimson banners baring the Pendragon crest.  His breath sped up, coming in quick panicky gasps as he took in his surroundings.

“It’s okay,” Arthur said taking a step toward the boy.  “The sorcerer’s dead, you’re safe now.”

The boy tripped over his own feet as he tried to back away from Arthur.

“Shite,” the prince swore as the boy stared up at him in absolute terror.  “Does anyone know what to do with one of these?” he asked.  “And where’s Merlin?”

Arthur stopped, he turned back to look more closely at the boy: Dark, messy hair, prominent ears, startlingly pale skin, draped in over-sized clothes with blue eyes that had focused on Arthur at the mention of his servant’s name.  The boy was tiny, no more than four years old.

“No way,” Arthur exclaimed.  “Merlin?”

The boy didn’t answer, but his expression was response enough to confirm Arthur’s suspicion.

“Merlin!  How do you always get yourself into the such ridiculous situations?” Arthur demanded, towering over the boy.

The boy curled up where he had fallen, too afraid to even continue retreating.  Arthur froze.  Merlin was never afraid of him, never looked at him as anything other than another youth.  Sure that first time had been due to shear ignorance, but the second time Merlin had known he was a prince and still hadn’t treated him any differently.  ‘It was one his manservant’s best- No, most annoying qualities.’       

Arthur stabbed his sword into the ground and knelt beside the terrified child.  “Merlin, it’s okay.  You’re safe.  I killed the sorcerer, we’ll take you back to Camelot and Gaius will sort everything out.”

Merlin’s only response was to curl up even more tightly.  Arthur glanced around helplessly.  His advisors studiously avoided his gaze.  The servants in the party hung back, uncertain if it was their place to offer suggestions to the out-of-his-depth Prince.  Finally Sir Leon stepped forward.  “He’s small enough, carrying him won’t be an issue.  Maybe he’ll perk up a bit once we put a little distance between us and all this,” he gestured to the dead sorcerer and accompanying gore.

Arthur grimaced.  “We can’t just leave the body here,” he said as he wiped his sword down then resheathed it. “But we’re not wasting any more time dealing with this.”

Leon took that as his cue.  He wrapped Merlin in the boy’s suddenly over-sized shirt and coat.  After a bit of head-scratching Leon gave up Merlin’s pants as a lost cause.  On the four year old, Merlin’s shirt more than satisfied modesty, in fact it was a trip hazard.  Clothes addressed, Leon bundled the petrified child on to his horse in front of him.

“Secure the body on Merlin's horse,” Arthur ordered and several of the servants in the party scurried to obey.  “My father will want to see the sorcerer burned and the ashes scattered.”

In Leon’s arms Merlin shuttered.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day passed without incident.  Merlin rode before Leon, the little boy’s body rigid with fear and he shied away from Leon’s supporting arms.  Every now and then Arthur would glance over at his de-aged servant and frown, it was unnatural for Merlin to be that silent and so obviously afraid.  

At dusk they stopped and set-up camp.  While the knights tended to their horses and established a perimeter, the servants dashed about setting up tents, starting fires and getting ready to prepare dinner for the company.  The advisors spoke quietly among themselves while they waited for their meal.  Leon sat Merlin down beside the fire.  “He’s been shivering all day,” he remarked.  “Doesn’t have enough meat on his bones to stay warm I suppose.”  The knight wrapped his scarlet cloak around Merlin’s thin shoulders before going to tend to his horse.

“Has he said anything?  Anything at all?” Arthur asked as the two knights unsaddled their mounts and started rubbing down the horses.  “The silence almost makes me wonder if he’s really Merlin.”

Leon shrugged.  “I’m pretty sure he only has his childhood memories.  Think about it from his perspective: One minute he’s safe with his mother in a familiar place.  The next he’s surrounded by strangers watching you kill a man.  Even though you were protecting him, it must be a shock seeing that sort of violence for the first time.”

Arthur grimaced.  “I guess you’re right.  Father didn’t require me to witness executions until I was ten.  It wasn’t an easy thing to see, even when I knew I was safe and Father had explained the necessity of it before hand.”

“Once the weather clears we should send for his mother,” Leon suggested.  “It may not be possible to restore Merlin without the use of magic.”

Arthur scowled at the thought of his impertinent manservant permanently replaced by a frightened child.  “Don’t count Gaius out yet,” Arthur said.  “He’s pulled off miracles before.”       

Leon gave his horse one last pat then picketed the charger under the trees w the snow was thinner.  “That’s not a word to throw around lightly,” he cautioned.  “Too close to another ‘m’ word.”

“My father trusts Gaius,” Arthur stated.  “And we’re fortunate to have him.  There aren’t many my father would trust to be knowledgeable about magic, but without Gaius we’d be fighting completely blind.”

Leon glanced toward the center of the camp and the fire were he’d left Merlin.  “Do you think Gaius could be teaching Merlin to succeed him in that area as well as in healing?”  He pushed on before Arthur could protest.  “You could see it from the sorcerer’s face; his spell didn’t work as planned.  Could Merlin have done something to disrupt it rather than simply shielding you?”

“I hope Merlin has at least a rudimentary concept of self-preservation,” Arthur said.  He shouldered his saddle and they started toward the center of the camp.  “Maybe Gaius gave him a charm.  Charms against magic are a grey area.  Father can’t out-law them, people need something to feel they’re protected from magic but the charms that work... You’ve got to question how they’re made.”

“Good luck and good reflexes, they’re the only weapons we have against magic,” Leon sighed.  “That and sorcerers’ bizarre habit of getting up close and personal to cast their spells.”

“And people like Merlin who are willing to risk themselves to create an opening for us to act,” Arthur corrected.  Then he glanced significantly toward the congregation of courtiers.  They let the subject drop.  All the knights knew how poorly armed they were against magic, but it bordered upon treason to admit it.

As they rejoined the main body of the camp Leon’s eyes widened in alarm at the sight of his abandoned cloak lying by the main fire.  “Where’s Merlin?” he asked.

Arthur grabbed a servant who had been setting a spit over the blaze.  “Where’d he go?”

“Who, my Lord?”

“Merlin!  How many toddlers do we have wandering around the camp without supervision?” Arthur demanded.

The servant glanced around, hoping the four-year-old would appear upon demand.  “I could look for him Sire.”

“Do that!” Arthur ordered.

“A child won’t last long if he’s wandered off in these conditions,” Leon worried

“Everyone,” Arthur raised his voice.  “I want Merlin found NOW!”

While the knights and servants scattered at Arthur command the advisors Uther had sent along looked at Arthur doubtfully.  “Sire, you can’t mean for us to waste our time searching for a mere servant?” their spokesman asked.

“Right now Merlin is vulnerable because he protected me from attack,” Arthur said darkly.  “What did you do; besides cower; when your prince was threatened?”

With sour looks the advisors backed down in the face of Arthur’s ire and joined the search.

 

* * *

 

A fruitless hour passed.  Arthur excused the servants and courtiers while he organized the knights for a more systematic approach now that they were certain Merlin had left the camp.  Within a few minutes the knights were circling the camp’s perimeter searching for traces of the toddler’s passage in the deepening gloom.

It was Arthur himself who finally found the trail.  With a torch in hand the Prince examined the ground, thanking the heavens for Merlin’s clumsiness and the clear signs the boy left in his wake.

The trail led Arthur to an old, hollowed out log.  Crouching down to peer inside Arthur spotted a tiny, bare foot.  Merlin’s pale skin practically glowed in the light from the torch.  “Merlin, you idiot!”  Arthur began to rant as he went to drag Merlin out by the heel.  Arthur’s litany of complaints cut off with a gasp as his hand closed on icy flesh.  Anxiously Arthur stretched further and found a pulse in Merlin’s thigh.  The prince sighed in relief then pulled back and began attacking the straps and buckles securing his armor with a desperate urgency.

He took a second to blow his hunting horn before dropping it on the ground along with pieces of his armor.  A moment later Arthur struggled free of his hauberk.  He ripped open his gambeson then yanked Merlin out of the log, quickly tucking the tiny boy inside the heavy, padded garment, close to his chest.  With a small bit of encouragement the semi-conscious child twined his arms and legs around Arthur, burrowing into the prince’s warmth.  Arthur pulled his woolen, winter-cloak closed around them both and strode purposefully toward camp.       

As he carrying Merlin back toward the camp Arthur was painfully aware of how effortless it was.  The child weighted much less than the armor Arthur had discarded, the arms twined around Arthur’s neck were thin and bony and Merlin was so very cold, huddled against Arthur’s chest, his head tucked beneath Arthur’s chin.  All Arthur could think about was how small and frail Merlin seemed, it filled Arthur with a fierce determination to protect his servant from any further harm.

As soon as they were close enough to catch the light from the camp fires several servants rushed over to take Merlin from Arthur but the prince warned them off with a glare.  “Get a brazier set up in my tent,” he ordered.  “I’ll be keeping Merlin with me tonight, he won’t tolerate much more of a chill.”

Arthur sat down close to one of the camp fires, arranging Merlin in his lap.  While keeping the boy largely wrapped in his cloak, Arthur extracted one of Merlin’s arms and started chaffing his icy fingers to restore circulation.  “What sort of idiocy persuaded you to run off like that?” Arthur demanded in an oddly gently tone.  “If you lose so much as a little toe to frostbite Gaius will never forgive me.  The eyebrow will only be the beginning,  you wouldn’t subject me to that would you?”

Shortly after Arthur and Merlin, the knights began trickling back into camp.  Leon crouched in from of Arthur and took charge of treating Merlin’s feet, which were not only suffering frostbite but were cut and bruised after the boy’s shoeless attempt to flee the camp.

As they worked Merlin gradually recovered from the stupor he’d fallen into.  Weakly he began to struggle free of Arthur’s cloak.

“Stop that!” Arthur reprimanded.  “You’re still mostly frozen.”

“Don’t want blood on me,” Merlin protested, his tone was half sleepy, half distressed, as if he’d just woken from a nightmare.

“What!” Arthur exclaimed sharply.

Merlin continued fighting against the crimson cloak’s folds.  “Red from all the blood, Cedwick says so,” he whined.

“Well this Cedwick’s a liar!” Arthur retorted.

Merlin shook his head stubbornly.  “His mama’s a druid, he’d know.  You’re the liar!”

Arthur felt his words catch in his throat as he remembered the raids he’d led.  ‘What do I say to that?’ Arthur wondered.  ‘That I tried to prevent women and children from being killed on the raids?  That I tried not to find Druid encampments on my patrols unless they were renegades like the ones that kidnaped Morgana?  That I don’t glory in the slaughter of people who refuse to fight back?’

Meanwhile Merlin’s body went rigid as he realized what he’d said.  His eyes reflected horror and guilt.  “She’s not magic!  She’s not a Druid no more!  Everybody in her camp got killed and she says she doesn’t care about the pro-sees no more!  She’s not a druid, REALLY!  And neither’s Cedwick,” Merln exclaimed in a fearful rush.  “You don’t want her blood for your nasty capes!”

“Pendragon-Red isn’t blood!” Arthur protested weakly.

“What prophecies?” Leon asked.

Merlin shrugged.  “That thing’ll be better I guess.  Maybe no one’ll go around killing them to make their stuff red?”  He started chewing his lip nervously.  “Cedwick’s Mama glared at me like I’d been real bad when she talked about the pro-sees,” he said.  “Why’d you want to wear blood-capes anyways?  And why don’t you have fangs and glowing eyes like Cedwick said Dragon-People do?”

“It’s not blood,” Arthur repeated.  His shoulders slumped as it occurred to him that from a druid’s perspective Pendragon-Red might as well be blood.  “We’re more than a week’s ride from Ealdor, it’s not like we’re going to ride all that way, not to mention trespassing in another kingdom just to find some reformed Druid woman,” he assured Merlin.

Merlin glared back at him with a mixture of skepticism and fear in his eyes.

“Really,” Arthur insisted.  “Ealdor’s not in Camelot.  If we sent knights there it could start a war.”

Merlin subsided but his body remained tense against Arthur’s.  He resumed plucking at the cloak, trying to get it away from his skin despite the cold.

“This is ridiculous!” Arthur snapped.  He stood, scooping Merlin up in his arms and stomped off to his tent.  “Bring our dinners,” he shouted in the general direction of a few servants.  

Once they were within the tent’s warmth Arthur stripped the offending cloak off Merlin and tossed it in a corner.  Then Arthur jerked an undyed blanket off his bed and wrapped Merlin in it.  “Now will you stop trying to freeze to death?” he demanded.

Merlin blinked at him in confusion.  After a few moments he snuggled into the blanket.

 

* * *

 

When their dinners arrived Merlin just stared at the stew and pulled the blanket more tightly around his shoulders.

“It’s venison, not children or whatever other stupid idea you’ve gotten into your head,” Arthur snapped.  “So eat already.”

Merlin flinched as if Arthur had struck him.  Quickly his hand darted out of the blankets to grab a spoon.  He took a tentative bite, then another.  At that point his hunger overwhelmed his fears and the little boy gobbled up the rest of the stew, scrapping the last remnants from the bottom of the bowl.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Arthur said in friendly tone, trying to make-up for shouting before.  “Now lets get you bedded down.  You’re not going run off and try to freeze the moment I turn my back, right?” Arthur joked.

Merlin hesitated then nodded his head so quickly it seemed in danger of falling off.

Arthur groaned as he interpreted that as ‘Merlin’ for “I’m about to do the exact opposite of what you ordered... Sire.”  He plucked up the little boy, blanket and all, and dumped him on his camp bed.  “Get comfortable, you’re not going anywhere,” he said

Chewing nervously at his lower lip, Merlin lay down on top of the covers and pulled his blanket up around his ears.  Arthur yanked the cover out from under Merlin with a roll of his eyes and awkwardly  tucked the little boy in.  Then Arthur stripped down to breeches and a tunic and climbed into bed himself.  He wrapped an arm firmly around Merlin’s waist.  “You have the survival instincts of a moth at a bon-fire,” Arthur complained.  “I’ll have you know, I’m a very light sleeper,” Arthur paused for a moment, waiting for a rejoinder that never came.  “I’ll wake-up if you try anything stupid.”

Merlin curled in on himself as tightly as he could, turning his back to Arthur.  After a few minutes his body started to shake and Arthur realized he was crying.

The prince leaned up on one elbow, staring down at Merlin with concern and a hint of panic.  He patted the little boy’s back uncertainly.  “Hey, hey.  It’s going to be alright, whatever it is,” he offered.

Merlin only cried harder.  To Arthur it seemed as if the sobs were going to shake the little boy apart.  He collected Merlin into his arms and held him tightly.  Merlin continued sobbing until exhaustion claimed him.

When Arthur woke it was just before dawn to the sound of Merlin muttering softly under his breath:  “Where I belong.  Take me where I belong.  Wanna be safe.  Wanna be home.”  

Then to Arthur’s overwhelming shock, the space beside him was suddenly empty.  A rush of air whirled by to fill the vacuum where Merlin had been.  

A moment later Merlin was back.  The little boy glanced around, “NO!” he exclaimed hitting his thigh with a closed fist.  “Not here!  I don’t belong here.  I’m good!  I am!”

“How can you have magic?” Arthur whispered.  “You’re just a baby.”

“I wasn’t bad,” Merlin insisted, apparently talking to his navel.  “I wasn’t, I did what Mama said!  I didn’t make the stinky soap go away, even though I didn’t need a bath at all!  I didn’t make stuff happen, I didn’t!  Mama didn’t spank my bottom even once in days and days!  I hided when strangers came!  I was good!  I just looked up and there they were.  I didn’t do anything bad!  Don’t send me to Camelot!”  

Arthur picked Merlin up and shook him.  “How can you have magic?” he hissed, furious and confused but carefully keeping his voice low..  

Merlin hung from Arthur’s hands, staring at him with wide, serious eyes.  “Mama says everybody’s wrong.  She says I’m not punishment, no matter what anybody says.  But she’s all alone and everyone says it’s cause I’m her punishment.  Mama’s not bad, she’s the bestest mama.  Are you taking me away to burn so Mama’ll have a real family, with a daddy and everything?”

Arthur’s stomach clenched in violent revolt at the notion of burning a child, Merlin. “No!” he exclaimed.  “No, I wouldn’t let you burn, I wouldn’t.  Never!” he promised vehemently.    

Merlin stared at him, puzzled.  “But you’re taking me to Camelot.”

“You’re just a baby,” Arthur repeated.  How could anyone tell a child like Merlin he was a punishment to his mother?  How could he have magic, he couldn’t have possibly learned it so young.  “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Merlin glanced over at Arthur’s discarded cloak and curled in on himself.  He buried his face against his knees.  Looking at him, Arthur knew Merlin didn’t believe his promise.  Arthur didn’t believe how badly askew his world had become, all because of this tiny child. ‘Merlin had magic.  Merlin had been born with magic.’

And there they sat, each lost in their own thoughts; Merlin staring blankly into nothing; Arthur staring at Merlin, trying futilely to reconcile his father’s laws with children born with magic; for perhaps twenty minutes before a servant politely announced himself from outside of the tent-flap.

“Sire, your breakfast.  Also we were able to alter some clothing to suit Merlin.”

“Come in,” Arthur said distractedly.  The servant placed several steaming bowls on the low camp table in Arthur’s tent then put the small stack of clothes for Merlin on th bed before turning to Arthur’s trunks.   “Just my hunting clothes,” Arthur instructed.

The sight of Arthur being dressed drew Merlin out of the fugue he’d fallen into.  “You still can’t dress yourself?” he asked in disbelief.  “But you’re so big!”

Arthur felt a pang, the question was so characteristic of their normal banter, but asked with a sincerity and innocence that simply wasn’t his Merlin.

 

* * *

 

That day Merlin rode before Arthur on the prince’s horse, wrapped snugly in the blanket from Arthur’s bed.  Arthur glowered fiercely at everyone and by mid-morning even his knights were giving him space.  Arthur justified his behavior saying he need time to think and if it kept everyone else at a distance where they were less likely to hear anything incriminating from Merlin that was just coincidence.

Not that Merlin seemed inclined to say anything indiscrete or much of anything at all.  The little boy leaned back into Arthur’s warmth and watched the scenery go by with large, serious eyes. Arthur was just as glad Merlin wasn’t in the mood to talk, his mind was reeling from what Merlin has already revealed.  

Arthur had rebelled against his father’s order to have the Druid boy, Mordred, executed.  He knew the child would be raised to be an enemy of Camelot... Not that the Druids were really enemies worthy of the name, being pacifists, but they kept the practice of magic alive... The boy had still been a child, he could still choose to reject his elder’s evil teachings.  Arthur knew it wasn’t likely and understood his father’s rationale, but he preferred to take even a slim chance that a child wouldn’t grow-up to become a threat to Camelot.  

Even then Arthur had believed that magic was a choice, perhaps a choice the elders made for their children, but a choice.  Merlin had been born with magic, condemned from birth for something completely out of his control.  From what Merlin had said, he’d even been punished for using the magic he’d been born with.  

Arthur wanted to think that Merlin and Hunith had chosen against magic, that Merlin had rejected a birthright of evil.  It was a simple explanation for why Merlin was Merlin and not one more  sorcerer scheming against Camelot.  But Arthur didn’t believe it.  There had been too many conveniently broken branches and inexplicably clumsy bandits since Merlin’s arrival in Camelot.  Besides, Arthur doubted that Ealdor had two secret sorcerers.  Merlin had not only been born with magic, he used magic.  In his heart Arthur knew Merlin wasn’t good because he’d chosen against magic.  Merlin had chosen to be a good person, that he happened to have magic was incidental to that choice.  

It went against everything Arthur had been taught, magic hadn’t corrupted Merlin.  Arthur imagined his father would say all the good Merlin had done was part of a deeper plot against Camelot but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to seriously entertain such a notion.

Arthur wondered how many other children like Merlin were out there.  Children who grew-up seeing his glorious, shining Camelot as a nightmare place, stinking with the blood and ashes of their kin.  It physically hurt, seeing Camelot through their eyes.

 


	3. Second Childhood:  Part II

As the turrets of Camelot’s castle appeared on the horizon Merlin’s tiny body went stiff with fear.  By the time they rode into the courtyard he was shaking, his breath coming in short, panicky gulps.    

Since Arthur had been absent from Camelot for over a month, King Uther and his court met the retinue in the courtyard.  Uther frowned in confusion and disapproval at the small, poorly-dressed child riding before his son.  Morgana smirked, seeing opportunities for teasing Arthur.  Gwen fought down the impulse to coo over the cuteness that was Arthur holding a toddler.  And Gaius’ eyes slowly widened as he took in the familiar looking child and the distinct lack of an older Merlin at Arthur’s side.

A small, terror-filled moan escaped Merlin as his gaze fixed on Uther’s crown.  Arthur was afraid the boy would faint out-right at being brought before Camelot’s dread King.  It made Arthur  cringe to realize that his father had more than earned such a reaction from any child born of magic as Merlin had been.

Arthur swung off his horse leaving the reins, and Merlin, in Sir Leon’s care as he went to greet his father.  “The visits to our outlying nobles went well, but we were attacked by a sorcerer as we returned to Camelot,” he reported briskly.  Arthur nodded toward the small boy still sitting astride his horse.  “Merlin took a spell meant for me.  I have no idea what the sorcerer hoped to accomplish by turning me into a child, but because of Merlin’s actions nothing came of his plots.  I was able to slay him before he could prepare a second spell.”

At Arthur’s confirmation of the child’s identity Gaius stepped forward.  With his new understanding, Arthur could see that Gaius wanted nothing more than to hustle Merlin out of the king’s presence and realized that Gaius probably knew Merlin’s secret.

“Very good Arthur,” Uther acknowledged Arthur’s defeat of the sorcerer but his gaze remained hard and cold.  “Your servant acted with great bravery, but Camelot cannot shelter one who is under an enchantment.  His sacrifice will be honored.”

“You would murder him for protecting Arthur?” Morgana accused the King, her eyes snapping with fury.  “For being the victim of a malicious spell?”

Uther glowered at his ward in warning.  “Magic is insidious, you cannot fathom the potential danger represented by one under it’s thrall.”

‘This isn’t the first time Father has been ready to throw Merlin’s life away,’ Arthur thought, remembering the Mortaeus flower.  ‘And he doesn’t even know Merlin is magic.  No wonder Merlin sees us as monsters.’

“Oh yes, what a terrifying threat,” Morgana gestured sarcastically to the tiny child perched on Arthur’s charger.  “I’m certain there are some nursing infants your knights could vanquish while they’re at it.”

“You will not challenge me on this!” Uther roared.  “Thanks to my vigilance you know nothing of the evils perpetrated by magic.  I will not have my policies questioned by an ignorant, foolish child!”

“But I killed the sorcerer,” Arthur protested weakly, his head spinning as he tried to find an argument that would pierce his father’s paranoia.  “Doesn’t that mean I’ve ended the threat?”

“The sorcerer is gone,” Uther allowed, “but clearly his magic remains.”

Gaius stepped forward.  “Sire, if I may speak?” He requested humbly.  “In some cases a spell may be anchored to an object and will not dissipate until that object is destroyed regardless of the sorcerer’s fate.  I see that Prince Arthur has brought the sorcerer’s body back for disposal.  I suggest burning the body and all his effects.  There is no guarantee that will end the spell, but surely Merlin’s loyalty to the Prince is worth this small effort to free him from the curse he has fallen under?”

“It is a wise precaution in any case,” Uther agreed.  “The fires will be kept hot for the next two sunrises.  If the fates will it, in that time the boy will be freed from dark influence of magic.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Gaius said bowing his head.  “Until then I will take charge of young Merlin.  I can see signs of frostbite on his ears from here.”

Uther nodded graciously and Gaius hurried Merlin away.

 

* * *

 

While the sorcerer’s pyre was being built Uther called Arthur to his study for a more thorough debriefing.

Uther wanted to know everything Arthur had said and observed on his tour of the outlying holdings.  Once the last detail had been wrung from Arthur, the king started lecturing Arthur about what he’d done wrong.

Normally Arthur would remain stoically silent while his father tore down his accomplishments.  When it was over he’d promise to do better, both to himself and to his father.  This time Arthur was still thinking about children born with magic and his father’s laws, laws he had enforced because he had always trusted in his king’s wisdom without question.  

“I didn’t think I screwed up all that badly,” Arthur interrupted resentfully.

For a moment Uther’s expression softened a bit.  “You didn’t do badly for your first time to make the tour without me, but there is always room for improvement.  The day you stop striving to improve is the day Camelot’s fall begins.”

Arthur nodded, his new doubts faltering.  But still he wondered how the person who spoke like that could allow laws that, by necessity, would turn a part of the population into enemies of the crown.

One of the castle guards knocked on the door.  “The pyre is ready, your Majesties,” the man reported.  “A goodly crowd has gathered before the castle.”

Uther acknowledged the man, “I will address them before the pyre is lit,” he said.  

Arthur followed his father to the parapets above the main square.  When they arrived the guards were still in the process of securing the sorcerer’s body and laying out his belongings so they would also be consumed.

Even though the sorcerer was dead the pyre had been built around a stake; there would be no chance of anyone mistaking this for an honorable funeral.  However the body had been transported back to Camelot tossed over the back of Merlin’s horse.  The winter weather had frozen it solid, bent at an acute angle with it’s hands dangling.  The guards spent several minutes trying to straighten the corspe then gave up and tied it to the stake with it’s legs sticking out and arms raised.

Arthur glanced at the gathered crowd and to his dismay he spotted little Merlin staring transfixed at the grotesque spectacle.  Arthur wanted to rush down and give Merlin a good scolding before dragging the boy back to the safety of Gaius’ chambers but the King wouldn’t approve and Merlin’s situation was precarious enough already.

Uther stepped forward once the corpse was secured and the torches lit.  “This sorcerer treacherously attacked Camelot only to be slain by your Crown Prince’s sword,” he declared as he raised a hand.  “His fate is the eventual fate of all who harbor the evil of magic in their hearts.”  He dropped his hand the guards tossed their torches onto the pyre.

The fire spread quickly but in the middle of it all the sorcerer’s frozen body resisted burning.  Arthur knew, tied up-right as it was, the body wouldn’t burn cleanly.  Soon the air around the square would be thick with the stink of cooking flesh as the heat from the fire roasted the upper reaches of the body before the flames could consume it.

As soon as possible Arthur excused himself.  He offered his father a small bow and walked calmly back into the castle.  The moment he was out of his father’s sight Arthur ran down the stairs to the square.  He stood in the shadows for a moment, checking to make sure his father had left the parapet, then he strode across the square and scooped Merlin up.  The little boy’s face was pale as chalk and his eyes were so dilated they appeared black.  

“This is no place for children,” Arthur scolded as he carried Merlin off.  “Did you sneak out of Gauis’ rooms?”

“They burned him,” Merlin whispered.  “They tied him up and burned him.  ‘Cause he had magic, they burned him.”

Arthur carried Merlin to the armory and shut the door behind them.  “What were you thinking?  Going there?” he demanded.

“Everybody says the Dragon-people will come and take me away and burn me,” Merlin said.  “You really burned him, ‘cause he had magic.”

“Merlin,” Arthur gave the little boy a quick shake.  “You aren’t going to be burned.  I promise.  On my honor, you won’t burn.”

Merlin blinked at Arthur.  “But you burned him, ‘cause of magic.  And everybody says the Dragon-people will burn me.”

Arthur was starting to hate the word ‘everybody’ on Merlin’s lips.  “Why would the people of Ealdor say that?” he asked.  “They couldn’t have known about your magic.”

“It’s a secret, between Mama and me,” Merlin confirmed in a whisper.  “Never, never tell.  Never ever.”  He looked contrite.  “But you saw.  Mama’s going to be so mad.  Never, never ‘posed to tell.”

“Why would they threaten you with Camelot then?  Are we so terrible?” Arthur asked.  “They didn’t know about the magic but they still made Camelot a nightmare for you.”

“I’m punishment,” Merlin explained.  “Mama says I’m not, but you took me away so she wouldn’t be punished no more.”

Arthur sat down with Merlin in his lap and tried to puzzle out what the child meant.  ‘The people of Ealdor called Merlin Hunith’s punishment.’  A faint flush crept up Arthur’s neck, ‘Oh- Not a widow.’   

“Merlin did your father have magic?” he asked on a hunch.

Merlin only shrugged, turning away from Arthur.  Still Arthur was sure he was onto something.  ‘Children can be born with magic, just like they can be born with blond hair or dark skin, Merlin is proof of that.  If a child could be born with magic it only made sense that they inherited it from their parents, like other traits.’  

Arthur had met Merlin’s mother, ‘I don’t think Hunith has magic, so that leaves Merlin’s father.  Of course I didn’t thing Merlin had magic either,’ Arthur admitted to himself.  ‘Hunith could have magic, but she doesn’t use magic and she doesn’t encourage Merlin to use it either.  It could just be prudence, but I’d bet that Hunith doesn’t have magic herself.’

‘Merlin’s father had magic.  There was no mention of him when we were in Ealdor, maybe because he’s dead, maybe because of who my father is.  But Merlin doesn’t talk about him, not even now, just his mother.  If he’s dead he’s been dead a long time.  Hunith’s neighbors call Merlin her punishment, getting pregnant was a punishment for taking up with someone who abandoned her, someone disreputable, a sorcerer.’

“Will it hurt when they burn me?” Merlin asked in a small voice, interrupting Arthur’s thoughts.  “Or will you kill me first?  Like you killed that sorcerer.”

“Merlin, listen to me.  Are you listening?” Arthur held Merlin’s shoulders and waited until the little boy made eye contact.  “I will not let anyone burn you.  No one is going to burn you.  Do you hear me?”    

After a long time Merlin nodded slowly.  “Mama says I have to hide from Dragon-people, probably cause she thinks they’d burn me like everybody says...” Merlin trailed off then offered Arthur a tentative smile.  “But maybe Mama didn’t know you.”

Arthur smiled back.  “Well, my father says everyone with magic is bad, but I am utterly certain he never knew anyone like you.”  How could anyone think Merlin was evil?  Not his loyal to a fault servant and especially not this tiny frightened child.  Merlin hadn’t asked to have magic, it wasn’t fair that he had to be so afraid.

Merlin’s smile gained a bit of confidence.

“Come on, let’s get you back to Gaius.”  Arthur stood up and settled Merlin on his hip.

“I can walk!” Merlin protested.

“Not very fast,” Arthur pointed out.

“Your legs are too long,” Merlin said with a scowl.

“I think yours are too short,” Arthur shot back.

“I can dress myself,” Merlin stated as if there could be no possible rebuttal to that.

Arthur found himself laughing.  Merlin pouted at him in return.

 

* * *

 

 They found Gaius searching the corridors around his rooms for Merlin.  “Sire, thank goodness you found him,” the old physician signed in relief.

Arthur set Merlin down and Gaius took the little boy’s hand.  “You were supposed to be napping in your room young man,” he scolded Merlin.

“That’s not where I live!” Merlin argued.  “I live with Mama, not here!”

“I know Merlin, we’re trying to fix things,” Gaius replied.  “But for the moment you have to be patient.  You can’t just wander off, this is Camelot, not Ealdor.”

Merlin flinched.

“Sire, thank you again for finding him.  I’m sorry if he caused you any inconvenience,” Gaius said and Arthur was left with the distinct impression that he’d been dismissed.  Arthur watched Gaius lead Merlin away.   He wondered if burning the sorcerer’s body would really break the spell on Merlin or if Gaius had just been buying time to try something else.

After waiting a few minutes Arthur circled around to the window outside of Gaius’ quarters.  Casually, being careful not to let himself be seen by anyone inside, Arthur leaned back against the wall and listened intently.  He’d learned just where to listen back when he’d been younger and Morgana’s nightmares were new.  Despite his certainty back then that Gaius and his father knew more than they were saying he’d never learned anything eavesdropping on their conversations.  This might be another exercise in wasting time but Arthur couldn’t resist the temptation to eradicate any lingering doubts about Gaius’ knowledge of Merlin’s magic and to learn if the physician had any plans to restore Merlin to his proper age.

After several minutes of listening to Gaius bustle about and scold Merlin for getting into things that weren’t for little boys Arthur heard Gaius say, “Now Merlin, do you remember the water-focus exercise?”

“That’s Mama and me’s secret!” Merlin declared and Arthur could hear the scowl in his voice.

“Who do you think taught that secret to your mother?” Gaius replied archly.

“Really?  Why?” Merlin asked.

“Well, pear-trees that give fruit in mid-winter may be nice but they do raise questions,” Gaius said.

Merlin huffed.  “Secret, secret, secret!  I was hungry!  Everyone was hungry, so I made food but Mama hid it ‘cause I got to be a secret.  I don’t even get to play with the other kids ‘cause I might forget.  It’s not fair!  I can do good stuff!  I can!”

“I know you could Merlin,” Gaius sighed tiredly.   

Outside the window Arthur felt something like shame tightening in his belly.  Merlin only wanted to help, but because of Camelot’s laws he was forced to stand by and watch people suffer.  Even at four Merlin was already frustrated by the imposed helplessness.  ‘How many good people had been turned against Camelot because they weren’t allowed the option of using their magic for something positive?’

“And you are going to do magic now,” Gaius continued.  “Your magic can return you to your proper place in the world.”

“I tried already,” Merlin informed Gaius crossly.  “I told my magic to take me back where I belonged but it wouldn’t take me away from Arthur.  Did you know he’s the Dragon-Prince?  He doesn’t have red eyes or fangs or anything.  He’s nice,” Merlin babbled, then his voice dropped into a scandalized, carrying whisper.  “But he can’t dress himself.”

“I have servants for that, idiot,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“Arthur is nobility,” Gaius explained in an amused tone.  “He can’t help it.”

“Oh,” Merlin said.  “I bet I could show him how.  Mama showed me and I don’t get it wrong hardly ever now.”

“Merlin, the exercise?” Gaius prompted kindly.

“Okay,” Merlin signed.  “I’m closing my eyes.”

“Good, good.  Now picture your magic as a pool of water.  All your excitement and stray thoughts are like ripples on the pond.  Take a deep breath,” Gaius instructed in a calming, rhythmic voice.  “Make the water smooth... Let it out.  Think about the ripples fading away... Take a deep breath.  See the endless sky reflected in the perfect mirror of your magic....”

“I can’t!”  Merlin huffed suddenly, breaking the hypnotic rhythm of Gaius’ instruction.  “My magic’s all wriggly!  They burned that sorcerer for reals.  I saw!  I thought maybe everyone was just telling tales to scare me, but they did.  They burned him ‘cause he had magic.  The Dragon-King said, he’s scary and he hates me.  But Arthur says they won’t burn me.  But Arthur killed that sorcerer.  He stuck his sword in him and all his insides fell out.  I saw.”

“Merlin, Merlin!” Gaius broke in.  “Why did Arthur say they wouldn’t burn you?  Did you tell him?  You can’t tell him.”

Outside Arthur took a deep breath and prepared to go in.  ‘There really isn’t any reason for me to hide that I know from Gaius since he clearly knows as well,’ Arthur told himself.  ‘Besides Merlin’s going to give it away any moment now.’

But to Arthur’s surprise Merlin’s answer was evasive.  “The Dragon-King hates me,” Merlin declared.  “And he burned that sorcerer.”

Gaius signed in relief.  “Arthur doesn’t know about your magic.  Merlin, you cannot tell Arthur about your magic.”

“He said he wouldn’t burn me.  He promised!” Merlin protested  

“Arthur doesn’t know about your magic,” Gaius reiterated.  “But Merlin, if he did he might feel it was his duty to kill you.”

Listening from the shadows Arthur felt his heart twist at Gaius’ opinion of him.  ‘Didn’t I prove I’d defy Father for Merlin when I got the Morteaus Flower?’

“Arthur’s my friend,” Merlin argued.

“He is very fond of you.  I don’t believe he would ever allow you to suffer, even if he knew,” Gaius disagreed.  “But Arthur is not just your friend, he is also Camelot’s Crown Prince and King Uther’s son.  As your friend he wouldn’t want to hurt you, but Camelot’s laws require it and his father’s hatred of magic is boundless.  Uther won’t care that you’re a child.  You said the King hates you, that’s because there is a spell on you.  Imagine how much more strongly he would feel if he knew you had magic.  The King would demand that Arthur kill you and I’m afraid that Arthur would feel obligated to follow his king’s orders no matter how much he likes you.”

“Why?” Merlin asked mournfully.

“How do you feel when you disappoint your mother?” Gaius asked quietly.

“Mama wouldn’t ever want me to hurt anyone!” Merlin declared fervently.  “‘Specially not a friend!  I don’t like the Dragon-King, he’s bad!”

Gaius sighed.  “King Uther was hurt, very badly by someone with magic.”  Arthur held his breath, waiting for Gaius to elaborate but the old physician went on, “Because of that Uther has tried to get rid of all magic so he can’t be hurt again.”

“That’s stupid,” Merlin replied, unimpressed.  “He wants to burn me with fire but I don’t get mad at you for using fire to cook...” Merlin trailed off for a moment then exclaimed.  “That’s stinky!  It’s not dinner?” he asked suspiciously.

Arthur frowned, ‘Could what Gaius had said be true?  Is my father really persecuting all magic-users because of one person’s crimes?  It can’t be true; so many sorcerers attack us.  But, does Father know that people can be born with magic, like Merlin?  How could he not know?’

“Merlin,” Gaius interrupted Merlin’s continued babbling about the odor.  “Remember the spell?  The one that makes the King dislike you?” he prompted.  “We have to get rid of it.”

“There’s a spell on me?” Merlin asked.  “Well, I knew it was magic that brought me to Arthur.  But it’s still there?  I can’t see it.  How does the King know?  He can’t see magic can he?” Merlin asked fearfully.

“The spell is keeping you from your rightful place,” Gaius said.  “The King can see that you’re not where you belong, that’s how he knows, he can’t see your magic.  But you have to break the spell.”

“So I can go home?” Merlin asked hopefully.

Arthur slipped away.  Back in his quarters he paced restlessly.  If Merlin were any indication magic didn’t make a person evil, but it seemed to breed secrecy and lies.  Merlin and Gaius hiding Merlin’s magic from everyone.  Everyone keeping Merlin in ignorance of what had happened to him.  Arthur and Merlin keeping Arthur’s knowledge of Merlin’s magic from Gaius... Arthur wasn’t even sure why Merlin had lied about that, he didn’t know why he was reluctant to confront Gaius with his knowledge.  Where there was magic, lies followed.

And then there was his father.  Arthur swallowed harshly.  His father’s secrets and lies might be the worst of all.  What tragedy had triggered the Great Purge?  Had his father with-held the knowledge that magic was inborn while sending Arthur and his knights out to hunt and kill sorcerers?  

Or was it all just another of Gaius’ lies?  A lie told to make Merlin sympathetic and keep him from turning against Camelot.  But didn’t that also imply that it was Camelot’s laws that made sorcerers their enemy, not magic itself?

That night Arthur’s sleep was anything but restful.


	4. Second Childhood: Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on how I look at Morgana: I prefer characters to have agency. So given a choice between Morgana being completely good until Morgause took her away and changed her into a villain or Morgana always being flawed and Morgause simply exploiting those flaws leading to the series three villainess, I go with the later. As Annis said in "His Father's Son" Morgana is very much Uther's daughter: she fixates completely on her notion of right and pursues it without concern for the larger picture or who gets hurt in the process. I also think frustration plays a role in what Morgana becomes. When it comes to magic she is right and Uther is wrong but she's powerless to change anything and she allows herself to become embittered.

A sudden and unexpected weight dropping onto his bed woke Arthur from a troubled sleep.  He opened his eyes to see a grinning, little Merlin bouncing experimentally beside him. 

“How’d you get here?” Arthur mumbled.  “Does Gaius know where you’re at?”

 At that Merlin scowled, his mood shifting like the winds.  “Stupid Gaius, stupid exercises.  My magic wants to be wriggly.”

 Which reminded Arthur.  “Why’d you lie to Gaius about me knowing about your magic?” he asked.

 “How’d you know that?” Merlin replied.

 “I’m a prince, I know stuff,” Arthur said archly, not wanting to admit to eavesdropping.

 Merlin’s fingers twisted together nervously.  “Y-you do?  Th-then Kings... Gaius says h-he hates me ‘cause there’s a spell on me.  B-but he knows.  He knows!  I’ll burn!” Merlin wailed.

 And then Merlin was gone.  Arthur looked around in alarm, ashamed that his thoughtless attempt to save face had terrified the little boy.  A moment later Arthur heard a soft thump from his wardrobe.  He knelt down on the floor and slowly opened the door.

 Merlin sat curled up on top of the Prince’s boots, his tunics hanging just above the boy’s head.  “Hates me.  He knows.  Can’t break spell.  Hates me.” Merlin was mumbling to himself as he rocked back and forth.

 “It’s okay Merlin, he doesn’t know,” Arthur assured the distraught little boy desperately.  “I knew because I listened at Gaius’ window.  The king would never stoop to anything so undignified.  He doesn’t know about you.  You’re safe.”  

 Slowly Merlin uncurled, “He won’t burn me,” he asked his voice wavering.

 “No.  I won’t let anyone burn you, not even my father,” Arthur swore.

 Merlin took a deep breath, he studied Arthur’s face intently for a moment then nodded.  “Okay.”

 “Okay,” Arthur agreed.  “So why did you lie to Gaius?”

 Merlin gave Arthur a wide-eyed look.  “I didn’t lie.”

 “I heard you,” Arthur said sternly.

 “While you were spying,” Merlin interjected.

 Arthur ignored that detail.  “Maybe you didn’t lie outright, but you deliberately avoided answering his question.  A lie of omission is still a lie.”

 Merlin looked puzzled.

 “When Gaius asked you about me, you hid that I knew about your magic even if everything you said was true.  That wasn’t honest,” Arthur scolded.

 Merlin pouted.  “He’d tell Mama and she’d get really mad.  She might even cry,” he explained in a rush.  “Never, never, ever let anyone know about my magic: That’s Mama’s most, very most important rule.  But you’re nice and I didn’t mean for you to see and you promised not to burn me and I don’t want Mama to be mad.  You won’t tell on me will you?”  

 “Are you asking me to lie for you?” Arthur asked haughtily.  Merlin started wringing his hands again and Arthur wanted to kick himself.  Of course Merlin was.  Arthur had learned a secret that was worth Merlin’s life.  If he wouldn’t keep secrets from Gaius how could Merlin trust Arthur to keep secrets from Arthur’s own father?  “I don’t suppose what I know is any of Gaius’ business,” Arthur sighed.  “I won’t tell him.”

 Merlin relaxed.  “You have a really bouncy bed,” he declared, apparently deciding not to think about secrets and magic any more.     

 A worried-looking Gaius appeared a short while later to reclaim Merlin.

  

* * *

 

 

Throughout the day the sorcerer’s pyre was kept burning hot and fierce.  

And, at increasingly short intervals, the child-Merlin would turn up wherever Arthur happened to be.  Gaius would arrive shortly there after.  The old physician’s face showing more strain with every passing hour and Arthur realized that his father’s deadline was fast approaching.

 The next morning Arthur stood at his father’s shoulder as Merlin, still a child, was brought before the throne.  Morgana scorned her place on the dias, making her position clear by going to Merlin’s side and ruffling the little boy’s hair while glaring daggers at the king.

Merlin cringed away from Morgana’s hand, looking like he wished for nothing more than to be swallowed up by the floor.  Gaius looked old, tired and defeated.  Not for the first time, Arthur wished Morgana would be a bit more circumspect.  Uther never responded well to challenges to his authority and Merlin didn’t need the king put in a bad mood.

 Uther frowned at Morgana disapprovingly then turned to Gaius.  “It appears the sorcerer’s hold on the boy goes too deep to be shaken off.  I am sorry my old friend, but we have no way of knowing what the magic in this boy will twist him into.  I will allow you to administer a draught before he is burned.”

Arthur’s stomach lurched.  Just like that his father was ordering Merlin’s death, offing Gaius the option of poisoning a boy who was like a son to him as if it were a boon.

“How can you do this!” Morgana screeched.  “Merlin hasn’t done anything except to protect Arthur and this is how you repay him?”

 “He is enchanted,” Uther thundered.  

 “He’s been turned into a baby!” Morgana shouted.  “Is this your justice?  First you turn everyone with magic against you, then when sorcerers attack your people you finish off the job for them?”

“Do not question me!” Uther ordered over Morgana’s rant.

“Merlin is the victim here and you’re punishing him for it!” Morgana continued, heedless of the king’s rage.

Arthur noticed that Merlin had vanished during all the commotion.  ‘It’s like magic, the way he does that,’ Arthur thought, feeling a bit giddy.  Without a word he stepped off the dias and started making his way to the door of the throne room.  His hand was on the door before Uther or Morgana noticed.

 “Arthur, you have not been dismissed!” Uther snapped.

Arthur didn’t turn around.  “Merlin ran off while you two were creating a spectacle,” he said.  “He’s my responsibility, what happened to him is because of me.  I’ll deal with this.”  Arthur let the door shut behind him without giving his father a chance to disagree.

The prince wasn’t surprised when he found Merlin hiding in his wardrobe again.  “I’m taking you back to Ealdor,” he stated.

 Merlin stared up at him worshipfully.

 “We can sneak you out of Camelot via the siege tunnel in the armory, but no one can see us together,” Arthur continued.  “Whatever you did to get out of the throne room, you need to do that again.”

Merlin nodded, his little face serious.

“Good.  Now stay hidden here until dusk.  No one will question it when I say I’ve already cleared my chambers, so this is probably the safest place for you in all of Camelot,” Arthur said.  “We’ll meet in the armory as the sun sets.”

Arthur shut his chamber door behind him then joined the search for Merlin, diligently inspecting every nook and cranny in the castle.  

When he reached Morgana’s door Arthur ordered the guards away.

“The king specifically ordered that the Lady Morgana’s chambers not be spared,” one of the more senior guards objected.  “Her sympathies make her suspect.”

“Neither the King nor I want Morgana treated like a common criminal,” Arthur declared.  “I will search her rooms personally to see that the intrusion is minimized... Unless you want to get on her bad side?”

The guard grimaced, Morgana’s vindictive nature was well known and once she was back in the King’s good graces the guards knew he wouldn’t intervene if she chose to make their lives hell.

 Arthur smirked.  “Why don’t you just search the rest of the rooms on this wing?” he suggested and they went.

 Morgana was pacing her rooms in a rage while Gwen stood at the window quietly twisting her handkerchief into knots when Arthur walked in.  “Good, you managed not to end up in the dungeons,” he said.

 “Merlin was protecting you, you bastard!” Morgana snarled.  “How can you do this to him?”

“What?  Sneak him out of Camelot?” Arthur asked.

 Morgana blinked.  She stared at Arthur, completely derailed.

“You and Gwen are going for a ride,” Arthur stated.  “You need to clear your head or get out of the city while this is happening, I don’t care.  But one of you is losing your horse.  I’ll need it tonight in the clearing with the split oak east of the castle.  I’m not walking all the way to Ealdor and back.”

Gwen gave Arthur a curtsey and a grateful smile.  “I’ll see to it,” she said.  “My lady, let’s get you into a riding dress.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur continued directing the search throughout the day.  As the hour grew late he broadened the search to include the lower town.  He also assigned several knights to scout around the castle for signs Merlin had left the city.  Arthur assigned himself to check the eastern gates.

As the sun began to set Arthur let himself back into the castle via the siege tunnel and a short while later he was peering into the gloom cloaking the armory, searching for Merlin.  The room was still and silent, for a moment Arthur was filled with fear that Merlin had been apprehended.  Then a small hand slid trustingly into his.  Arthur glanced down to see Merlin bundled up in a child’s heavy winter cloak.  “It’s a good you found that,” he said.

“The pretty lady from this morning put it on your bed,” Merlin explained.  “She looked for me but I didn’t let her find me.”

“I should have thought to outfit you,” Arthur reprimanded himself.  “Ready to go home?”

Merlin nodded firmly.  But, as they made their way through the tunnel he asked, “Will you visit me once I’m home?”

“You’ll be safer if I don’t,” Arthur said regretfully.

“Oh,” Merlin replied in a sad, little voice.  “I think my magic likes you.  It’s less wriggly when you’re here.”

“Wriggly?” Arthur asked.

“It wants stuff to do,” Merlin explained.  “It’s hard to box it up when I could help with it.  I could help, really.  When you’re here it feel like it knows what it’s supposed to do.”

“Sit quiet and hide?” Arthur asked.

Merlin wrinkled his nose at Arthur.  “No!  It has a reason now, I can feel it.  I asked Mama why I was different, she didn’t tell me, but when I’m with you my magic knows.”

Arthur glanced at Merlin uncertainly.  He didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that.  After all, he was a Pendragon, the sworn enemy of magic.  Still Merlin claimed his magic liked Arthur.

When they reached the tunnel’s exit Arthur paused.  “We need to move quickly and quietly now,” he declared and swept Merlin up to ride on his back.  Merlin giggled then crammed a fist into his mouth.

They were almost to the clearing where Morgana and Guinevere were to have left the horse when a figure concealed in a heavy cape confronted them.

Arthur dropped Merlin and drew his sword, forgoing his normal flourish.  “What do you want?” he demanded as he stepped away from Merlin.

“Your blood, young Pendragon, in recompense for all those with magic whom you’ve murdered.  My brother will be your final victim,” the sorceress raised her hand and Arthur was consumed with pain.  He dropped to his knees, screaming.  He felt as if he were being torn apart.

 “Stop hurting him!” Merlin’s shout seemed to come from impossibly far away.  Then the pain was gone.

 Arthur leaned on his sword, breathing raggedly.  He stared as tiny, helpless Merlin stomped his foot and glared at the sorceress.  There was something black writhing in Merlin’s hand.  Merlin’s face squinched up, he gritted his teeth and squeezed, the thing dissolved into black smoke and was blown away.

 “You have magic,” the sorceress exclaimed in shock.

 “Hurting people is bad!” Merlin informed her fiercely.

 Slowly Arthur pushed himself back to his feet.  The Sorceress’ glanced at him for a moment before she turned her attention back to Merlin.  “He’s a Pendragon, child,” she said.  “Come away from there.”

 “He’s my friend and I won’t let you hurt him,” Merlin declared.  His eyes burned gold and the clearing thrummed with an invisible energy.

 The sorceress licked her lips nervously.  “I won’t fight one of my own kind,” she stated.  “But heed my words child: He’ll be the death of you.”

 “Go away!” Merlin ordered, his voice wavered and cracked.  “I don’t like you.  Your mama should give you a spanking!”

 Arthur straightened and brought his sword up to a guard position.  The sorceress’ eyes flickered nervously between Arthur and Merlin, then she vanished in a whirl of snow.

 Merlin sighed with relief and dropped into a boneless sprawl, the charge in the air dissipated into nothing.  

 Arthur suddenly found himself giggling.  “A spanking?  Really Merlin.”

 Merlin frowned.  “My mama spanks me for using magic and I’m never as bad as that lady.  She should be spanked with a _brush_!”

 Arthur doubled over, laughing.

 “Stop laughing at me!” Merlin demanded, sitting up.  “Or... Or I’ll turn your hair pink!  Like a girl’s dress.”

 Arthur smirked at Merlin, “You do and I’ll tell your mother on you.”

 “You wouldn’t.”

 “Try me.”

 Merlin crossed his arms and pouted.  “Tattle-tail.”

 “Let’s get a move on,” Arthur said.

 Merlin peered down at his chest, his eyes widened.  “Gaius was right!  There is bad spell on me, like that lady put on you.”

 Arthur spun around, “Can you break it?” he demanded.

 “I think so,” Merlin closed his eyes and screwed up his face in a look of intense effort.  There was a blinding pulse of light and when Arthur’s eyes cleared his grown manservant lay in the clearing, black smoke rising form his body as the last of the spell slipped away.

 “Merlin?” Arthur called.

 His servant remained silent and unresponsive.

 Arthur shook Merlin lightly, then harder when his eyelids didn’t so much as flicker.

 The prince pressed his ear against Merlin’s chest and was relieved to hear a steady heartbeat and to feel his chest rise and fall.

 “Enough lazing around Merlin!” Arthur commanded as he slapped Merlin’s cheeks lightly.  Then the Prince stood up and paced across the clearing, his eyes never leaving Merlin’s still form.  “I have to take you back to Gaius.  I don’t know anything about magic, if something went wrong when you broke that spell, he’s the only one who can help.  Arthur took a deep breath.  “Don’t worry about my father, I’ll think of something to satisfy him.”

 Arthur wrapped Merlin’s body in his cloak then hoisted him over his shoulder and staggered back toward the castle.

     

* * *

 

A few hours later Arthur stood before his father and a small council of senior knights and court advisors.  

 “It was difficult for me to believe that a small child, such as my manservant had been reduced to, could evade castle security,” Arthur began.  “So when I lost the light I renewed my search of the castle.  I found Merlin in the lower dungeons.  It is my conclusion that he was over-looked in the initial search because no adult could have fit themselves into the nook I discovered him near.  Camelot’s forces are not accustomed to hunting toddlers.”

 “I only found him because I saw a flash of light which accompanied the curse on Merlin breaking.”  Arthur met his father’s eyes, bringing to the fore all the hard-headed stubbornness he’d inherited.  “I saw the corruption of magic leaving my servant’s body as he was restored to his natural form,” Arthur declared.  “Once again Camelot has triumphed over magic... It just took a little longer than anticipated.”

 Uther frowned at Arthur.  “Gaius, you will verify the Prince’s assumption that his servant is free of magic.”

 “Of course Sire,” Gaius replied with a small bow.

 “And he will remain under observation until I am satisfied that this enchantment has not twisted the boy against Camelot,” Uther concluded.

 Gaius frowned but Arthur shrugged nonchalantly.  “Merlin is rarely far from my side, it will be a simple enough thing to keep an eye on him.  And when he’s not with me, he’s with Gaius.  I can’t imagine anyone more capable of spotting signs of enchantment.  We will see every last trace of this curse eradicated.”

 “See that you do,” Uther replied.  “Do not allow your fondness for the boy to cloud your vision.”


	5. Interlude: Non-Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short little chapter but it serves a purpose.

The next day Arthur found himself hesitating outside of Gaius’ quarters. He’d received word around mid-day that Merlin was finally conscious. It would be the first time Arthur would face the grown version of his servant since learning of Merlin’s magic.

‘I’m not afraid to talk to Merlin,’ Arthur thought to himself as he made his way to Gaius’ window. ‘I just get more honest answers this way.’

“But what happened to me?” Merlin was asking. “Why’d I pass out?”

“Given your child-self’s lack of experience with channeling your magic I can only assume you used brute force to break both the spell on yourself and on Arthur.” Gaius hypothesized. “Your magic may be nigh unlimited but your body isn’t. I imagine that it was simply your body’s way of letting you know that enough was enough.”

“I guess,” Merlin allowed.

“Merlin,” Gaius’ tone changed, turning deathly serious. “The king has ordered that you be kept under observation. He’s afraid that your enchantment may have turned you against Camelot.”

“I’d never turn against Arthur,” Merlin protested.

“We can hardly tell the king that your magic was strong enough to overcome the other sorcerer’s,” Gaius pointed out. “Merlin, Camelot is too dangerous for you now. You have to leave immediately.”

Arthur jerked away from the window. ‘Merlin was leaving?’ he thought. He quickly retreated to the knight’s training grounds where he set to work with a sword-dummy. It was his hope that the exercise would clear his head.

A half-hour later, panting heavily, Arthur lowered his sword and just stared at the splintered remains of the dummy. ‘Really, it is for the best that he’s leaving,’ Arthur told himself. ‘This way, I won’t have to second guess my promise to hide him from my father.’ Arthur’s mouth tightened. ‘Not that he really needs protection.’

Because Merlin didn’t just have magic, the fearful little boy Arthur had spent so much time reassuring was powerful. And it wasn’t just Gaius saying so, Arthur had seen the sorceress’ eyes before she’d retreated. She’d done her best to imply that she’d only let Arthur go because he’d been hiding behind a magical child and that she had no desire to fight one of her own kind. But in her eyes Arthur had seen the truth: She hadn’t dared match herself against Merlin. Even at four he’d outclassed her the way Arthur outclassed his rawest knight-hopefuls. What that said about Merlin’s powers now Arthur didn’t even want to contemplate.

And soon Merlin would be gone and Arthur wouldn’t have to think about him ever again. Arthur took one last vicious swing at the dummy and sent it’s head flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With Merlin's magic revealed Arthur has three basic options: Uphold Camelot's laws and see Merlin killed. Exile Merlin and avoid the issue. Or accept Merlin and reject Camelot's laws, as long as Uther's alive that means keeping the secret. But this chapter is about making sure that Arthur is aware that Merlin has options as well. Merlin can chose to subject himself to Arthur's judgment, whatever that is. He can chose to leave and preemptively protect himself from Arthur reacting badly. Or, if Arthur reacts badly, Merlin could use his magic to protect himself. 
> 
> Going into the next few chapters I wanted Arthur thinking about the fact that it's not all up to him.


	6. Necessary Conversations: Part I

“Up and at em.”

Arthur frowned in confusion as he pulled the bed sheets over his head. It sounded like Merlin, but that wasn’t possible: Merlin was gone, fled from Camelot because he had magic.

“Alright you lazy daisy, it’s time to get up!” There was no way that was anyone but Merlin, no one else was that inane and disrespectful.

“Merlin? What are you doing here?” Arthur exclaimed as he sat up, blinking at the light and squinting because he still didn’t really believe Merlin could be here.

“My job... unless you sacked me again?” Merlin frowned, preparing to launch into a rant about Arthur’s pratishness. “You did! You sacked me and didn’t even bother to tell me!”

“Do... do you remember what happened while you were bespelled?” Arthur asked. He felt an unexpected surge of hope. Merlin didn’t know he knew. He could just forget and everything would go back to how it had been. Then he saw the same thought flash across Merlin’s face.

“How can you be such a terrible liar and keep a secret like that?” Arthur demanded. It was just too complicated now: Merlin keeping his magic a secret. Arthur pretending he didn’t know Merlin’s secret. And finally Merlin pretending that he didn’t know that Arthur knew. Just thinking about it made Arthur’s head ache.

Merlin glanced away, shamefaced. Then he looked back at Arthur and shrugged, “Well, to be fair, it helps that I’m not what you think of when you say ‘magic’.”

“What? You’re saying you don’t have magic?” Arthur snapped, suddenly tired of lies. “It’s a little late for that.”

“No, I’m saying when you say ‘magic’ you’re thinking ‘Evil sorcerer out to destroy Camelot’,” Merlin shot back. “I’m not that. So I can say ‘I used my magic to cure Gwen’s father’ in front of the whole court and no one believes me. You’re all so blind to what magic could be that you don’t see anything that falls outside of your narrow definition of what magic is about.”

“My father says to know the heart of one sorcerer is to know them all,” Arthur parroted his father’s favorite maxim.

Merlin stared at him in bemusement for a few seconds then demanded, “Give me your crown.”

“What!” Arthur exclaimed.

“There has to be some explanation,” Merlin replied. “Maybe the crown cuts off blood flow to the brain. You can’t possibly believe something that stupid, even if you are a cabbage-head.”

“Did you just call my father, your King, stupid?” Arthur asked, frowning threateningly.

“Oh no... and I’m sure Uther and Alined are cut from the same cloth, they’re both kings after all,” Merlin replied sarcastically. “Or... or... I know, the next time you tell me to saddle Hengroen I’ll bring you that little gelding we keep for nobles of questionable horsemanship. If all sorcerers are the same then surely all horses must be the same.”

Merlin set to straightening up Arthur’s chambers employing a lot of loud, unnecessary banging about, which did little to cover up his muttering. “Okay, maybe I can see it.” He sent an unsubtle glare in Arthur’s direction, “After all, there are times when I find it really difficult to distinguish between a certain Prince and a horse’s ass.”

Arthur started laughing, he couldn’t help it. Merlin was Merlin, magic or not. He was the closest thing to friend Arthur had ever had. On the surface it seemed impossible that the Crown Prince of a kingdom determined to stamp out magic and a peasant-sorcerer could have enough in common to relate to one another but there it was:

Both Arthur and Merlin had lost a parent before they had the chance to know them. They’d both grown-up under the shadow of their remaining parent’s pain, a pain they felt responsible for. They even both had people trying to kill them because of who their fathers were. Uther had provided Arthur with a sense of security that Hunith hadn’t the power to offer Merlin. Still, despite the hardships she’d faced as a peasant-woman raising a child alone without even the charity granted a widow, Hunith had made every effort to let Merlin know he was loved and wanted, and that was something the King of Camelot hadn’t been able to give his child.

Arthur felt an embarrassing niggle of envy for the affection Hunith gave Merlin. But as a child Arthur had believed his father was invincible, while Merlin had been taught from infancy that his only security lay in his ability to hide himself. Arthur had also believed that his father was infallible, but he supposed it was part of growing up to learn otherwise.

If Uther ever learned of Merlin’s magic he’d have Merlin killed, he’d say it was for the good of Camelot and that Arthur was a fool not to see the danger Merlin’s magic represented. But his father was wrong, Merlin was Merlin and about as threatening as a girl’s petticoat. He wasn’t some evil sorcerer. Arthur knew about his magic but Merlin wasn’t fleeing or scrambling to enact some evil plot. Merlin was cleaning Arthur’s chambers... badly. He was throwing dirty looks and insults at Arthur, just like always. Apparently Merlin had overcome Gaius’ caution and his own fears of staying, and so Arthur would protect Merlin’s secret even from his own father.

Arthur watched Merlin kick some dirty laundry under the prince’s bed. “So, your evil plot is to suffocate me with the smell of my own unwashed socks?” he asked.

Merlin grinned. “They are particularly odoriferous, sire. What do you do to create such a stink?”

And that should have been that, in Arthur’s opinion. Merlin hadn’t changed because, really, why would he? He’d always had magic, the only difference was that Arthur knew about it now. And Arthur wasn’t going to tell his father, because, when it came to Merlin at least, his father was clearly wrong about magic-users.

It should have been the end of it but it wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

Later that morning Arthur was headed toward the training fields, Merlin trailing after him, burdened with a precarious stack of armor as always. There was a massive clatter and Arthur turned to berate Merlin for his clumsiness, just as he’d done a hundred times before, but it wasn’t Merlin’s lack of coordination that had caused him to drop the armor this time. There were two guards grasping Merlin’s arms, dragging him away. Merlin looked terrified.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Arthur demanded, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. He felt a fission of fear run down his spine, because Merlin was a powerful sorcerer and he was scared. The guards had no idea what they were dealing with. Arthur frowned, and they were being altogether too rough with Merlin, what business did they have man-handling HIS servant like that!

The guards paused in their efforts to drag Merlin off in order to answer. “Sire, the king has ordered that your manservant be brought before him, immediately.”

“And you couldn’t simply request his presence?” Arthur snapped. He freed Merlin with a glare and a tug, yanking Merlin behind him over the guards’ uncertain objections.

“My prince, your father-” the guard glanced between Arthur and Merlin nervously.

“Summoned Merlin, he did not order him arrested,” Arthur interrupted. “I was part of the council that discussed the breaking of Merlin’s enchantment.”

“He was magicked,” one of the guards protested stubbornly. He glared at Merlin banefully and Arthur suddenly realized that in Camelot any contact with magic was as nearly as damning as being a sorcerer.

‘They gave a man a bed for the night,’ Arthur remembered Merlin protesting during the search for conspirators after Guinevere's father had been arrested. ‘Not a man, a sorcerer,’ Arthur had replied. It was different now, knowing that the guards saw Merlin the way Arthur had seen that Innkeeper and his family: Tainted by association. Arthur could see the fear in the guards’ faces. Fear that they might be painted with the same brush if they less than enthusiastic in the pursuit of their orders.

And Merlin was terrified. The guards would push to show their unwavering support of the King’s war on magic and if Merlin were pushed too far he could retaliate. Anyone pushed into a corner would fight back. He would use his magic because he would see no other option and Camelot would see it as proof that the King’s laws were right.

“I will see Merlin to the throne room. You are dismissed,” Arthur stated in a tone that brooked no questions. Still the guards hesitated. “You’ve more than done your duty!” Arthur growled and finally his authority overrode their fear of being seen as lenient toward magic.

Once they were gone Arthur turned to Merlin, “You don’t have to worry. My father’s already decreed that Gaius and I are to watch you for further signs of enchantment, that’s all. He’s probably just making some sort of public proclamation.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said quietly. “Being dragged before the King is a particular nightmare of mine.”

 

* * *

 

Merlin tilted his head up as best he was able and gave a small wave. The little boy standing across the square returned it with a gap-toothed grin, then glanced longingly at the basket of over-ripe vegetables. But after a look at the glowering Prince standing to the left of the stocks the boy left the vegetables where they lay with a wistful sigh.

Merlin craned his head toward Arthur, “Shoo.”

“It’s not right,” Arthur muttered angrily.

Merlin shrugged as best as he was able while confined in the stocks. “I did try to run away from the King’s justice.”

“If you actually think that’s why you’re in the stocks you’re an even bigger idiot than you look.” Arthur snarled. “This isn’t about you at all, this is because I forced Father into changing his ruling. Denying my assertion that Camelot had triumphed against magic would have made us appear weak, afraid. But overturning his earlier ruling means he was wrong before. Putting you under observation, throwing you in the stocks, he’s just doing it to prove who’s in charge.”

“I’m not on a pyre,” Merlin said very softly. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been in the stocks, it probably won’t be the last. But if you keep acting weird the King’s going to think I enchanted you or something. So go away, act normal. Go beat up your knights or kill some defenseless bunny. Please?”

“It’s not right,” Arthur repeated. More loudly he announced, “Don’t think this gets you out of your chores Merlin. I want a bath tonight, as soon as you’re done here get right on it.” Then with a last backward look he left.

Merlin smiled charmingly at the little boy again, the boy smiled back as he gleefully reached for the basket. “Lets hope for bad aim,” Merlin muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

“There’s tomato in your hair,” Arthur observed as he got out of his bath.

“Thanks so much for that observation,” Merlin replied sarcastically.

“The water’s still clean, cleaner than you anyway, and it’s not even that cold,” Arthur offered. “You could have a set of my old clothes. I know Morgana used to give Gwen all her dresses that she didn’t like.”

“Thanks,” Merlin said. He glanced at the tub then hesitantly toward Arthur. After a moment of internal debate his eyes flashed gold and the bathwater began to steam.

“I knew you were cheating,” Arthur exclaimed. “You’re the most incompetent servant I’ve ever had, but somehow you could always get a hot bath together faster than anyone else.”

“My magic is as much a part of me as my hands are, it’s not cheating,” Merlin protested. He quickly shed his clothes and stepped into the bath. “Oh, this is nice. My back’s sore from bending over for so long.”

“Why did you ever come to Camelot in the first place?” Arthur blurted out. “You were so afraid.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m not four anymore, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“What does that mean?” Arthur demanded.

Merlin looked away for a moment, “When I was born the Purge was at it’s height. I can remember when it was common for Camelot’s knights to search villages on both sides of the borders for fleeing sorcerers. There was a time when a month never passed without seeing a bounty hunter driving his cage down the road to Camelot,” Merlin’s voice thickened with revulsion at the mention of bounty hunters. Arthur tilted his head to the side questioningly.

Merlin shrugged and smiled faintly. “Camelot’s knights haven’t changed that much. Even in the middle of the Great Purge they were out to protect their kingdom. They wanted to fight monsters, not magical toddlers. I was pretty safe from the knights as long as I didn’t do magic right in front of them, they didn’t really want to know that someone like me existed. Bounty hunters...” Merlin grimaced, “They’re just out for the money. They rounded up anyone who was so much as rumored to have been touched by magic, the more helpless the better. Even your father got sick of them eventually. When I was eight he made a proclamation that Camelot wouldn’t pay any more bounties without proof of magic.”

Arthur cringed at the thought of what that meant; for nearly a decade, maybe more, his father hadn’t required proof that a bounty hunter’s captives even had magic, let alone that they meant Camelot harm.

Merlin went back to his initial point as he toweled off. “Back then people were actively hunting down anyone with magic. And have you ever tried to tell a toddler to be cautious? My mother did what she had to to keep me safe.”

Merlin paused to get dressed, then he turned and looked at Arthur seriously. “That kind of fear? It may have kept me alive when I was little, but it’s a poison. It eats you up inside until there’s nothing left but bitterness and hate.”

“So coming to Camelot, it was some sort of facing your fears thing?” Arthur asked in confusion.

Merlin shook his head. “No, it might sound strange, but I’m actually safer in Camelot.”

Arthur nodded, “You told me people in Ealdor always suspected that your father had magic.” Suddenly Arthur sounded extremely awkward. “And you never knew him... Did he, um enchant your mother?” Arthur stammered.

Merlin gave a frustrated huff. “Are you asking if my father raped my mother? No, they loved each other. But you’re hardly the first to wonder. That’s actually the only thing my mother ever told me about him,” Arthur heard an old bitterness in Merlin’s voice. “Before she got pregnant my mother used to help magic-users fleeing Camelot. But it’s impossible to keep things quiet in a small town. Still she was well-liked and respected; Mother is the closest thing to a healer within a day’s walk of Ealdor; no one reported her. But when she got pregnant with no husband around... Ealdor is right on the border, Camelot’s view of magic-users is pretty common there. Everyone assumed that one of the people she’d helped raped her, or at least used magic to seduce her. Because that’s how sorcerers are, according to popular opinion,” he said with disgust.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur replied not knowing what to say. Another uncomfortable thought occurred to him. “Did my Father….”

“My mother doesn’t talk about my father.” Merlin interrupted. “I don’t know if he was executed or if he just fled. I don’t even know his name. But some people in Ealdor felt the need to share their theories about him with me. That’s what my mom told me in response: That they loved each other. That’s all she ever told me.”

Arthur looked away. “My father doesn’t like talking about my mother either,” he offered in apology.

Merlin smiled tensely to show that it wasn’t Arthur he was upset with, then he shrugged. “In Ealdor I was always going to be a fugitive sorcerer’s son. In Camelot I could be anyone, as long as I kept my magic hidden.”

“But why Camelot?” Arthur pressed. “Why not Essetir?”

“Magic might not be banned there,” Merlin said, “But the old king still had his ways of controlling it and I doubt Cenred’s any better than his father. Frankly, I’d rather die on a pyre in Camelot. When my mother realized I couldn’t stand to bury my magic-”

“Why not?” Arthur interjected. “Even if magic doesn’t make you evil, wouldn’t it be easier to just forget you ever had it rather than expose yourself to ‘popular opinion’?”

After several false starts, given up almost before the first word passed his lips, Merlin asked, “Do you remember Lancelot?”

“Of course.”

“If I hadn’t gotten involved he could have joined the guard,” Merlin began.

Arthur didn’t see the connection but decided to go along with it, since Merlin seemed unable to explain straight out. “Lancelot would have been wasted in the guard.”

Merlin smiled at Arthur’s response. “Even though he’s common-born Lance has the soul of a knight. Still the guard would have been something.”

“Until he went off his rocker having to act as if the likes of Sir Hubert were his betters,” Arthur replied, rolling his eyes. The unspoken clause to Camelot’s First Law was that nobles with significant land-holdings didn’t have to be particularly skillful to be honored as knights.

Merlin nodded. “For me, not using magic would be like asking Lance to spend his whole life mending shoes. It would be like asking him to pretend he can’t pick-up a sword without cutting his own foot off, even if people he loved were being attacked by bandits.” Merlin looked Arthur square in the eye. “I’m not incompetent Arthur. I’m forbidden, on pains of death, from being what I was born to be. I am magic, it’s in my blood as surely as knighthood is in yours. That’s why I need to use my magic. I could survive by denying it, but I’d hate myself and, eventually, I’d hate everyone else too.”

“So the sorcerers who are always attacking us... that’s as if Lancelot took his skills and turned bandit because he was angry about Camelot’s First Law,” Arthur extrapolated.

Merlin’s face filled with gratitude and hope. “They’re hurt and resentful. They’ve lost all hope of a better life, so they lash out.” He smiled, “I don’t just want to use my magic, you know. Lance was going to go out and do great deeds. He wants to prove the First Law is wrong by showing the world that he’s as worthy as any noble-born knight. I came to Camelot because I wanted to prove that magic can be used for good; that I’m not a monster even though I was born of magic.”

“My father will never change his mind about magic,” Arthur said bluntly. “Not even if you used it to save his life in front of every last citizen of Camelot.”

“I know,” Merlin replied quietly.

“Then what... Me?” Arthur realized.

Merlin smiled at him, eyes full of faith and adoration, then glanced away shyly. “Better get you to bed. Busy day tomorrow, bashing your knights about. Can’t spend the whole night jawing if you’re going to be up at dawn,” he babbled.

Arthur let himself be hustled off to bed. He couldn’t fathom why that look from Merlin had fanned a smoldering anger into new life. Once Merlin was gone Arthur got out of bed and dragged a chair over to the fire. He stared into the dancing flames and tried to make sense of his reaction.

That look should have been flattering. Other people; his father; looked at Arthur and wondered if he was strong enough to hold the kingdom Uther had built up from rubble. Not Merlin. Merlin was the one Arthur looked to when he doubted himself. Merlin believed in him.

Merlin dressed him in the morning, helped him stay awake during dull council meetings by making faces or wry, whispered observations as he filled Arthur’s goblet. Merlin cheered for him at tournament without considering what it would mean for the kingdom if he lost and provided a discrete and sympathetic ear when he complained about other members of the court. Merlin trailed after him, as close as his shadow, whether he was on a recreational hunt or a quest to slay a mythical beast. Merlin spoke out about any potential danger to Arthur, even when it meant speaking out against a noble. He kept doing it even after he’d learned that, as a commoner, by Camelot’s laws, he could only expect punishment for doing so. Merlin had drank poison for Arthur and would have done it again, not that Arthur would ever allow Merlin to endanger himself like that again.

When Merlin had been awarded his position as the Prince’s manservant Arthur had known that Merlin had felt anything but honored by the chance to served Arthur. Somehow though, in the time they’d been together, everything they’d been through, Arthur had forgotten that Merlin had dreams and goals beyond being his servant.

Merlin believed Arthur would be a great king but it had never occurred to Arthur that Merlin had staked all his hopes, his very life on the sort of king Arthur would become. Arthur had joked about Merlin’s evil plot to kill him with dirty laundry, but realizing that Merlin did have an agenda that went beyond completing the chores Arthur assigned him felt like a punch in the gut.

Merlin didn’t just expect Arthur to maintain what Uther had established. Merlin needed him to overturn his father’s laws and find a way to be a just ruler for the druids and those born with magic as well as those without. Uther had protected Camelot’s people from the depredations magic could bring about by crushing every hint of magic. He ensured the nobles prosperity at the cost of the peasantry. Merlin believed Arthur could find a way to rule all his subjects equally, never protecting one at the expense of another.

Merlin was so sure of Arthur that he’d never even bothered to mention his definition of a ‘great king’. Merlin had faith that Arthur’s reign would be revolutionary, but he didn’t trust Arthur enough to mention having been born with magic.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although Alined doesn’t show up until after “Lancelot and Guinevere” I just had to use him, he makes a much better contrast to Uther than Bayard or Odin would have, I’ll assume that his reputation precedes him. Also while Alined didn’t have any magic of his own, it seemed he had Tickler pretty firmly broken. I’m going to assume that Tickler’s fate isn’t uncommon in kingdoms where magic is allowed.
> 
> Cenred looks to be roughly Arthur’s age. Chances are he wasn’t King while Merlin was growing up.


	7. Necessary Conversations: Part II

Arthur was still stewing over his thoughts when Merlin returned with his breakfast the next morning. The moment Merlin opened the door the prince demanded, “Why did you save me that first time? And don’t give me any crap about what a great king I’ll be; you couldn’t stand me then.”

Merlin offered Arthur a teasing grin, “The first time I was told that... I asked if we were talking about the same Prince Arthur.”

“Who told you?” Arthur demanded.

“Of course, that was before I got to know you,” Merlin continued with a gentler smile.

Arthur glared at him, tired of half answers and evasions.

Merlin threw up his hands, “I saved you from Mary Collins for the same reason I tried to stop you from tormenting poor Morris: What she was doing was WRONG. I don’t know if Tom Collins was using his magic to make the crops grow or to murder his neighbors. It didn’t come up when the king was giving his speech explaining why he deserved to die. Either way his mother still had no right to go after you in revenge.”

“Every other sorcerer seems to think so,” Arthur pointed out. “Why are you different.”

“I don’t know!” Merlin gave a frustrated huff, “They’re wrong! Beyond that it’s all so short-sighted and stupid,” he ranted. “What do they think is going to happen if they actually managed to kill you? Sure it’ll hurt your father, but then he’ll start another purge and where will we be?”

“The Druids pretty much have the right idea... well at least they don’t make things worse, but most of the other magic-users I’ve met? I just want to shake them and ask if they want everyone to believe we’re evil.” Merlin grimaced. “Not that I ever get to do that, because by the time I meet them they’re already in the middle of attacking you or Camelot and I have to kill them.”

“Why didn’t you go to the Druids?” Arthur asked, his thoughts shying away from Merlin’s statement about killing for him.

“What? When? Instead of coming to Camelot?” Merlin stammered, thrown by the non sequitur.

“They would have welcomed you and your magic. They wouldn’t have cared about your father,” Arthur pointed out.

“The Druids... er... um... creep me out,” Merlin mumbled.

“What?”

“Well... er... while I was little I mentioned a prophecy,” Merlin flushed and looked away.

“You said there was a reformed Druid in Ealdor and she’d given up believing in it,” Arthur prompted.

“I wish you wouldn’t call her that, there’s nothing wrong with being a Druid,” Merlin said. “And she didn’t really quit believing it, it just didn’t come soon enough to help her. The prophecy is about Emrys aiding the Once and Future King to unite Ablion and restore magic to it’s proper place.”

“And...” Arthur asked impatiently.

“I didn’t actually know the prophecy until I came to Camelot,” Merlin stalled. “Growing up in Ealdor I just knew that Mayellen and Cedwick hated me and that they’d been Druids.”

“Get to the point Merlin.”

“According to the Druids I am Emrys,” Merlin admitted. “They either revere me for what I’m supposed to do or they’re like Mayellen and despise me for not getting it done fast enough. Like I said, creepy.”

“And I supposed I’m this ‘Once and Future King’,” Arthur said. “Someone in Camelot told you this? Who?”

Merlin hesitated.

“Gaius?” Arthur asked. “I know he knows about your magic.”

Merlin blanched and Arthur’s temper exploded. “You go on about this great king I’m going to be, but you don’t trust me. You believe these prophecies about me, us, but even when I tell you I’ll keep your secret you don’t believe me!”

“Arthur-“

“Get out!” Arthur snapped. “Just get out!”

  
That night it wasn’t Merlin who prepared Arthur for bed and the prince realized he hadn’t seen a trace of his manservant all day.

When he slept, Arthur’s dreams were full of confused images: Finding Merlin dead, torn apart by wolves or frozen by the cold. Of Camelot swallowed by a stultifying silence, the stuffiest of his father’s advisors circling around him their mouths moving without sound.

 

* * *

 

The next morning when Arthur woke to the soft sounds of dishes clinking as his breakfast was laid out rather than an obnoxiously cheerful greeting as his curtains were flung wide, he was certain that Merlin had fled Camelot and had probably gotten himself in trouble already.

Just a few days earlier Arthur had been telling himself that Merlin leaving was for the best, really. That Camelot was no place for someone with magic, even if magic wasn’t intrinsically evil. But Merlin wasn’t just someone. The last few days had shown Arthur that Merlin hadn’t changed just because Arthur knew about his magic and Merlin’s place was at Arthur’s side. Well, technically a servant’s place was at his master’s heels but Merlin had always had the manners of someone born in a barn.

‘Or had Merlin changed?’ Arthur wondered. Before Merlin had always been ready to stand up to Arthur’s temper. ‘Am I going to have to start being careful about yelling at Merlin? Stop throwing things at him? Now that I know he probably feels a lot more vulnerable.’

‘He’s probably headed for Ealdor. Riding hard I should be able to catch up with him by dinner even if he left right after we fought,’ Arthur thought. ‘I hope he doesn’t need an apology. Sometimes he can be such a girl! And he did lie to me. No, an apology isn’t necessary, I just have to convince him that I’m not going to hand him over to the executioner just because I raised my voice.’

Still uncertain as to what he was going to say when he caught up to Merlin, but determined not to let him go without a fight, Arthur threw off the bedsheets and finally looked at the servant who’d brought him breakfast.

Merlin stood by the table, head down, fiddling nervously with something in his hands. Once their eyes met, Merlin held the object up and Arthur saw it was a jousting ring. “I do trust you,” Merlin said quietly. “I wouldn’t hold these for you if I didn’t, not even if you threatened me with a month in the stocks. But when I let you snag one of those out of my hands I don’t just trust your intentions, I’m also putting my faith in your skills. I trust that you’re good enough with a lance to never make a mistake, because it would only take one slip and you’d have killed me.”

“So you trust me not to deliberately get you executed?” Arthur asked, unimpressed. Still his earlier frustration and anger had been mitigated by the fear that he’d driven Merlin away.

“How long was it before you stopped sending for Morris every time you needed a shave?” Merlin asked lightly.

“That’s different!” Arthur sputtered. “Everyone knows you’re a clumsy idiot.”

“And you have a temper,” Merlin replied. “One careless or angry work from you on this subject and I’ll die. Or, at least, I’ll have to flee Camelot.”

“I’ve told you I won’t. Do you doubt my word?” Arthur demanded.

“You won’t consider the fact that I have magic the next time Camelot is threatened by a magical attack?” Merlin asked. “You won’t suspect me... or even try too hard to shield me from investigation? Won’t look to me for answers about magical threats?”

Arthur’s mouth gaped open helplessly. He didn’t have an easy answer for Merlin.

“In Camelot the suspicion of magic can get a man killed.” Merlin sighed, “And even if you don’t suspect me, if you act like I have something to hide or like I’m an expert on magic others might start suspecting.” Merlin spread his hands equally helplessly. “I can’t withstand much scrutiny. Like you said, I’m a terrible liar.”

“So you’re going to leave.” Arthur winced at how sulky he sounded, even to his own ears.

“No, I’m going to take my chances,” Merlin said. “But that’s why I didn’t want you to know. I did want to tell you sometimes... Maybe I would have taken the chance if it were just my life, but it’s not. You don’t just know, you know Gaius knows.”

“I’m not going to tell, what more can I say?” Arthur exclaimed in frustration.

“This is hard for me,” Merlin said. “You do know it’s not just you, right? My whole life I’ve kept this secret. My mother knew, of course, and she told Gaius. She needed help figuring out how to teach me even basic control. And when I was eleven I told Will because he was my friend and I didn’t like keeping secrets from him.”

Arthur looked caught between feeling vindicated that even Merlin agreed that keeping secrets from friends was bad and feeling hurt and affronted that Merlin had told Will but hadn’t told Arthur. Merlin’s eyes begged Arthur to hear him out.

“Mother was so upset when she found out what I’d done,” Merlin continued. “I told her that Will would never betray me, he was my best friend. And she told me pretty much what I told you about accidentally giving me away... Then she asked me to think about what could happen to Will if I ever got found out. What if people suspected that he’d covered for me? What if he got hurt trying to defend me? Arthur, a few people have found out about my magic since then, but I’ve never told another person since Will.”

“That’s horrible,” Arthur said, shocked at the weight of guilt that Hunith had laid on her son to enforce his silence.

Merlin smiled grimly. “What Mother couldn’t bare to say was that my telling probably wouldn’t matter. What do you think will happen to Gwen if it comes out that I have magic?”

“Guinevere knows?” Arthur sputtered.

“Is there cotton in your ears?” Merlin demanded. “Gwen doesn’t know, but do you think it’ll matter? Her father was killed for consorting with sorcerers and she’s my friend. If I get caught your father might think Gwen knew and didn’t tell. Or he could think she should have known but turned a blind eye. Arthur, you know he’s executed people for less than that.”

Arthur closed his eyes, his gut churning as he began to understand.

“My father was probably right: leaving was the best protection he could offer us. Sometimes I think I should go live in a cave where I don’t endanger everyone I care about just by being near them.” Merlin smiled weakly. “Now that I think about it, you’re pretty much the only friend I’ll ever have who’s life I’m not risking. You’re the Crown Prince of Camelot, who’d believe you’d shelter a sorcerer? All you have to do is say nothing and-“

“I wouldn’t-“ Arthur protested.

“I’m asking you to,” Merlin said gently. “If I get caught, don’t try to save me. Don’t risk your father’s anger; when it comes to magic he’s not sane. Do what you have to, become the king I’ll know you’ll be.”  
  
“What kind of person would I be if I just stood by and let you be killed?” Arthur demanded.

“One who listens to what I want,” Merlin said. “If I get caught, I don’t want a futile gesture. If you can do something to convince him I don’t have magic, great, I’m all for survival. But if you can’t... We both know you’ll never be able to convince your father that magic isn’t evil. Just... Remember me? I’ve always known I’d likely be killed for my magic someday. I’ve accepted that. Just, when you’re king change things so that people like me don’t have to lie to their friends.”

“Fine,” Arthur agreed grimly. “But you’re promising me something in return. If I agree not confront my father, you have to promise that if you’re caught you’ll do everything in your power to escape. And I’ve seen sorcerers disappear into thin air.”

“I don’t have a clue how they do that,” Merlin pointed out

“Then learn,” Arthur ordered.


	8. Interlude: Research

Geoffrey of Monmonth blinked when his Prince entered the Palace Library for the third time in under a week. “More histories, Sire?” he asked skeptically.

Arthur dropped a heavy tome on Geoffrey’s table and frowned at it, Geoffrey frowned back at the abuse of his books. “How many of Camelots histories have you transcribed?” Arthur asked.

“Why, all of them, Sire,” Geoffrey replied blandly. “Your father noted some inaccuracies and ordered me to correct them… right about the time of your birth.”

Arthur grimaced. “You wouldn’t happen to have the unrevised versions lying around somewhere?”

“Your father ordered the old versions burned,” Geoffrey said, his gaze sharpeningy. “Naturally he wouldn’t want anyone reading anything… inaccurate… about Camelot’s history.”

“The treatises on battle tactics were revised at about then as well?” Arthur asked, his mouth a thin, hard line. “Were they inaccurate as well?”

“They were… modernized,” Geoffrey corrected. He studied Arthur for a long moment then turned and wandered into the stacks. Mystified, Arthur followed him. “Might I recommend this?” Geoffrey asked as he removed a thin, dusty manuscript from a dim corner of the library.

“What is it?” Arthur asked.

“You are aware that your blood-right to Camelot’s throne is through your father’s mother. Her grandfather was Camelot’s last lawful king before your father took the throne,” Geoffrey began.

“Yes, yes, a Sorcerer used his wiles to take Camelot and several neighboring kingdoms,” Arthur recited. “My grandmother fled to safety in Londinium where she grew up and met my grandfather, but she never forgot her people. When my father was in his teens, hearing stories of the Sorcerer King’s continuing depredations he gathered an army and ousted Sorcerer, restoring Camelot’s rightful rule.”

Geoffrey smiled, “So you didn’t sleep through ALL my classes,” he remarked. Then dusted off the manuscript. “This is the original manuscript of the code that your father’s army swore to uphold. I think you might find it… enlightening. Very little of the code has ever been modified, although the interpretation of certain passages has shifted with the times.”

Arthur took the manuscript carefully, with a surprised glance at Geoffrey. The old man gave Arthur another long, evaluating look. “Do what you will with that, and perhaps one day we might talk about those… inaccuracies at more length.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In “The Sorcerer’s Shadow” Uther states that he conquered Camelot when he was Arthur’s age, one episode later he’s protesting that Morgause can’t take Camelot’s throne by force, it’s unlawful. Sure, Uther’s a hypocrite, but in this case I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt as it gives the general populace a reason for going along with Uther’s personal vendetta against magic.


	9. Trust Issues Part I

For almost two weeks after Merlin was restored to his natural age things were quiet in Camelot… By the fifth day Merlin was a nervous wreck.

“For pity’s sake Merlin,” Gaius sighed. “You need to stop worrying about things that haven’t happened and start getting ready for Lord Heldsworth’s upcoming visit. They’ll be here in just a few hours.”

“Visiting nobility, banquets, a demonstration of arms by the knights,” Merlin groaned. “The Fates must have been saving up the trouble for us. They’re bound to be impostures, assassins or worse.”

“Merlin,” Gaius chided. “You’re borrowing trouble and not seeing to your chores. I’m certain Arthur’s asked you to do something in preparation for the event.”

“The red doublet!” Merlin exclaimed as he stuffed the last of his breakfast into his mouth and ran out the door. “I’m supposed to have it washed and mended for the banquet tonight!”

A mournful look and a promise to dust the upper reaches of the Lady Morgana’s chambers got the shirt mended, courtesy of Gwen’s nimble fingers.

Then Merlin headed for the laundry in the castle’s lower reaches. ‘If I’m lucky no one else will be there and I’ll be able to use magic,’ Merlin thought to himself as he headed down the stairs with the red doublet and an armful of Arthur’s other clothes. ‘If there is someone there, I’m just doing the doublet. The rest can wait.’

Merlin groaned when he got to the laundry and saw another servant already bent over one of the many wash tubs. Merlin dumped the bulk of Arthur’s laundry in a corner then laid the doublet over a washboard and went to find some soap.

“You’re the Prince’s man-servant, ain’t ya?” the other man asked and Merlin frowned. Everyone in the castle knew that.

“That’s me. Are you new here?” Merlin asked.

Rather than answering the man snatched the doublet out of Merlin’s hands and another handful of Arthur’s dirty laundry as he sprinted for the stairs.

“Hey!” Merlin shouted and chased after him, his long legs quickly making up the distance between them. As they reached the first landing, Merlin grabbed the other man’s sleeve and jerk him to a stop. “I don’t know what sort of crazy fetish you’ve got, but I need that doublet!” Merlin protested.

The other man’s eyes flashed gold and Merlin tumbled down the stairs.

 

* * *

 

When Merlin showed up with Arthur’s lunch he was limping heavily and Arthur didn’t see a trace of the doublet he’s specifically requested for the night’s banquet.

“What happened to you?” the prince demanded.

Merlin offered an embarrassed grin. “Fell on the stairs in the laundry.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You should be the one wearing armor. You’re more of a danger to yourself than bandits are to me.”

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t entirely my fault I fell,” Merlin argued. “It wouldn’t have happened except for the guy stealing your dirty laundry... Which is why I don’t have that red doublet you wanted for the banquet cleaned. Why don’t you wear the green one instead, Gwen said it looks nice with your eyes the last time you wore it.”

Arthur scowled. “You’re blaming your failure to complete your chores on some mysterious, dirty-laundry thief? Seriously Merlin, you are a terrible liar. I wouldn’t buy that one even if you tried it at the end of the feast.”

“Planning on getting drunk are we?” Merlin asked brightly.

Arthur groaned. “Father’s seating Lord Heldsworth beside me. The man’s the very definition of a pompous blowhard. Couldn’t you have just...” Arthur wiggled his fingers.

Merlin glared. “I try not to get caught remember? And I was telling the truth about your laundry. Although I can’t imagine why anyone would want it. There was a stack of clean clothes not ten feet from the stuff he took.”

“You ruined that doublet didn’t you?” Arthur asked.

Merlin sighed and threw up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say Sire. Now lets get you in the green doublet. Your father will expect you in the courtyard to greet Lord Blowhard shortly.”

“Don’t forget your livery. You’ll be serving me at the feast and I need some entertainment.”

“I’m afraid the hat perished in a close encounter with one of Gaius’ more volatile experiments,” Merlin reported with barely concealed glee. “I really meant to tell you sooner... Oh well, no time to replace it now.”

“We’ll see about that,” Arthur threatened.

“Don’t forget Lord Blowhard, I’m certain he’ll keep you occupied all afternoon. You’re reviewing the knights with him aren’t you?”

Arthur groaned. “His second son will be of age next year. With my luck he’ll be every bit as bad as his father.”

“Maybe he’ll fail your test,” Merlin offered.

* * *

 

After Merlin had dressed Arthur, greeted the arriving nobles with him and dragged their bags up to the guest quarters he headed back to Gaius’ quarters for a late lunch before changing into Camelot’s livery. While he ate Merlin complained to Gaius about Arthur not believing him about the laundry thief.

“A sorcerer!” Gaius exclaimed.

“Yeah, stealing Arthur’s dirty laundry,” Merlin confirmed. “I almost don’t blame Arthur for not believing me. Who’d want that prat’s dirty clothes? I certainly don’t.”

“Merlin, have you any idea how dangerous that could be?” Gaius demanded.

"It's dirty laundry, who cares?"

“Any number of spells can be cast on someone by way of personal…” Gaius paused. “Hair, sweat, the like. With that a sorcerer could cast any number of spells to control Arthur’s mind, to harm him from a distance…”

Merlin looked aghast. “And I let him get away.” He took off running.

Once he was outside of the castle Merlin used his magic to search for the other sorcerer’s trail. It took several tries as Merlin circled the castle before he found anything. Determinedly Merlin set off following the magically highlighted trail.

* * *

  
  
At the banquet that night Arthur sat next to Lord Helmsworth, with a pained smile pasted on his face. “I’ve found...”

“No, no my boy, the ax is unquestionable superior,” Lord Blowhard overrode Arthur’s attempt to converse for the fourth time and resumed lecturing Arthur on the advantages of the ax over a mace as if Arthur were an untried child rather than a seasoned warrior.

Arthur imaged inviting the Lord to prove his opinion on the training grounds and managed to keep his polite smile in place as he held up his goblet for a refill. An anonymous servant stepped forward and smoothly poured the wine, not spilling a drop.

Arthur scowled, he was firmly of the opinion that if he had to be bored and uncomfortable Merlin should be suffering right alongside him. Even if Merlin had managed to evade The Hat watching him fidget with the formal livery would have provided Arthur with some small amusement. And, of course there was always the possibility of a repeat of the domino-effect incident.

Now that Arthur knew about Merlin’s magic he had his suspicions about how it happened that so many of the spilled trays had ended up in the Lady Ethel’s lap. Still, in Arthur’s opinion it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving individual. He’d seen how she treated her horses and that raised even uglier suspicions about the way her servants tended to flinch every time a noble glanced their way. But Merlin was conspicuously absent from the feast, removing even the slightest possibility of relief from the banquet’s tedium. Nothing had happened to disturb the equilibrium they’d reached about Merlin’s magic, his lies and his fears so Arthur could only conclude that Merlin was simply shirking an unpleasant duty.

While Lord Blowhard continued expounding on the virtues of the ax, not even letting Arthur get in a word edgewise, Arthur mentally compiled a list of the most unpleasant chores he could think of. Having his manservant dredge the castle middens wasn’t actually a chore befitting of Merlin’s station but it was really Merlin’s own fault for not correcting his ignorance of court ways and Arthur felt no guilt about taking advantage of Merlin’s failure to educate himself.

 

* * *

 

Merlin plodded tiredly through the deepening gloom. Traces of the other sorcerer’s passage glowed under the influence of Merlin’s magic. Merlin cursed as he stumbled over an exposed root.

He’d been walking for hours. The other sorcerer had hitched a ride with a wagon not a mile outside of Camelot’s gates, further increasing his lead as Merlin couldn’t even try to do the same while he was depending on his magic to track the sorcerer.

‘Should have taken a moment to saddle a horse.’ Merlin thought. At the time it had seem like an unacceptable delay given the other sorcerer’s already healthy lead. Now it was a moot point.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Merlin groaned when the trail led into a bog.

 

* * *

 

The next morning when Merlin didn’t bring his breakfast, or the hangover cure Merlin should have known he needed, Arthur was annoyed. It was one thing for Merlin to evade his duties when it came to serving at a formal banquet, but to fail to make up for it the next morning?

Still wearing the stained and wrinkled clothing from the night before, Arthur stomped through the castle in a state of high dudgeon. His mood wasn’t improved when Morgana crossed his path. The king’s ward didn’t say anything, she let her expression, as she took in Arthur’s dishevel state, say it all. Then she laughed and the sound might as well have been an ice-pick scraping on the interior of Arthur’s skull.

“Keep it up and if Helmsworth the younger is even half as boring as his father, I’ll suggest he court you,” Arthur grated out.

“Uther would never agree to such a match,” Morgana replied dismissively.

“But you’ll be subjected to his company for months before Father declines his suit,” Arthur pointed out.

Morgana wrinkled her nose at him and swept off. Arthur counted it a victory.

A short while later the prince let himself into Gaius’ chambers, a fresh bucket of water from the city’s coldest well in hand as he made his way to Merlin’s room.

“I sent Merlin out to gather herbs,” Gaius remarked.

Arthur set the bucket down with a disappointed sigh. Dumping icy water over a sleeping Merlin would have made up for a lot. “You wouldn’t happen to have a hangover cure left?” Arthur asked, giving Gaius a pleading look.

Gaius raised the eyebrow and Arthur felt as if he were eleven and had just been caught red-handed with Morgana’s severed braid again. But after tutting disapprovingly Gaius produced the cure.

Arthur threw back the contents of the vial trying to get it to his stomach without it touching his taste-buds on the way down. Then Arthur stopped with the vial still raised to his lips. “Gathering herbs? It’s winter… And Merlin’s supposed to be under our observation, what insanity possessed you to send him out on his own?”

Gaius hesitated. “To be honest, Sire, I forgot.” he said. “It’s been one of Merlin’s regular chores since coming to Camelot.”

Arthur grimaced. “He’s going to end up in the stocks again. We have to spin it so it’s nothing more than that. He’d better get back soon.”

“I’m certain he won’t be too long. The herbs were urgently needed.”

Arthur left the physician’s quarters with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction. Gaius’ explanation had been plausible enough, and convincingly delivered but Arthur couldn’t help but wonder. Gaius knew about Merlin’s magic, he was obviously supporting Merlin with his expertise on the subject and had, almost definitely, covered for Merlin in the past while he was off using magic.

The more Arthur thought about it the more ‘herb gathering’ sounded like ‘cover story for off performing magic.’

Arthur spent an inordinate amount of time that day watching for Merlin’s return while trying not to draw attention to his absence. Arthur tried not to think about Merlin, off on his own fighting a sorcerer. His new knowledge that Merlin was actually a powerful sorcerer warred with Arthur’s long standing impression of Merlin as his hapless manservant.

Arthur wished he could give into his desire for a long and loud rant about tossing his worthless excuse for a servant into the stocks until his oversized ears turned blue. It might have made him feel better after realizing that Merlin had lied to him again, or at least neglected to mention a magical threat before haring off on his own to deal with it. Having Merlin in the stocks, where Arthur knew exactly where he was and could exert near absolute control over the amount of danger Merlin was in was sounding better with every hour that passed.

 

* * *

 

Merlin’s boots squelched wetly as he lifted his feet clear of the calf deep mud, then with a grimace he took the next step. It was still early winter and only a thin crust of surface muck was frozen. Merlin’s weight cracked the ice and his foot sank into the frigid mud. It spilled over the top of his boot and oozed between his numbed toes.

“When I catch this one I’m going to blow him to smithereens,” Merlin muttered irritably. “Normally I’m more reasonable, I’d be more reasonable if he’d pulled this crap in the summer. Or someplace dry. But no, he has to attack us in the middle of winter and then he goes and hides in this miserable, cursed bog. No mercy. Why can’t they ever be considerate? Or maybe for once, someone else with magic could try thinking things through and maybe, just maybe, try NOT attacking Arthur for a change.”

“Why can’t I ever meet a nice, sane sorcerer? Why doesn’t anyone else get that this crap just makes Uther look right?”

 

* * *

 

When night fell with no sign of Merlin Arthur found himself back at Gaius’ door. This time there was a notable air of concern about the physician as he said, “You know Merlin, he may have become lost. I’m certain he’ll find his way back before long.”

Arthur shut the door behind him then said, “You mean Merlin’s off fighting some sorcerer- EVIL sorcerer,” he corrected himself. “And he’s over-due.”

Gaius pressed a hand to his chest as he stared at Arthur in shock. For a moment Arthur worried that he’d given the elderly physician a heart-attack, but then Gaius collected himself. “There are certain spells that require a personal item. When Merlin mentioned the bizarre theft of your dirty laundry, I was concerned. Merlin felt confident he could recover the items. He felt guilty for not taking more drastic measures to prevent the initial theft.”

“Like using his magic,” Arthur said. “That is why the two of you thought it better to send Merlin after the thief rather than informing my father and having a unit of knights assigned to the task?”

“Yes,” Gaius replied, having recovered his aplomb. “Merlin is more capable of countering magical threats against Camelot than your most elite knights and when he faces these threats alone he doesn’t labor under the handicap imposed by Camelot’s prejudices.”

“He should have told me!” Arthur insisted.

“He left as soon as he was made aware of the threat to you,” Gaius countered. “There wasn’t time.”

Arthur frowned.

“There is little you could do to help in any case,” Gaius stated. “We have to trust Merlin to prevail.”

 


	10. Trust Issues Part II

Unhappily Merlin conjured a small fire and allowed himself to collapse for the night. As much as he wanted to press on, he was simply too tired. Tired, cold, hungry. He’d been following the sorcerer’s trail for better than a day. He had no supplies, no horse, no proper bedroll and the only thing he’d eaten since leaving Camelot was what little edible vegetation that he’d spotted along the trail.

‘Next time I’ll have a plan,’ Merlin promised himself. ‘And a well-stocked saddlebag hanging over the withers of my horse.’ But he knew himself well enough to know that it wasn’t likely. People attacked Arthur or Camelot and he reacted, there was never time for a fully baked plan. At best Merlin had a goal, a rough outline of how he intended to achieve it and his magic to fall back on when everything went to hell.

 

* * *

 

Shortly after the second day of Merlin’s absence dawned Arthur ordered his knights out into the snow for drills, citing the need to be prepared to defend Camelot under any conditions. Several hours and no small number of mutinous glares later it occurred to Arthur that training his knights to exhaustion wasn’t the best plan if there was trouble on the horizon.

Arthur intercepted the out-going patrol to tell them to keep an eye out for Merlin in case his manservant/sorcerer had bitten off more than he could chew only to change his mind at the last moment. No matter how much trouble Merlin had gotten himself into, outing him could only make it worse. Then Arthur spent the better part of the afternoon pacing his quarters, trying to determine a course of action. That night, following a smaller dinner with their guests Uther asked Arthur to accompany him to the king’s quarters.

“You’ve been distracted lately,” Uther stated. “Lord Helmsworth’s holdings supply a notable portion of Camelot’s grain. I expect more from you in our dealing with him and the other major land-holders.”

“I’m sorry Father,” Arthur replied.

Uther waited for an explanation.

Arthur decided it was the time to confront his father about something he’d noticed years ago but had ignored because his conclusions had seemed almost treasonous. Now he needed to know because knowing could confirm what he suspected had been written out of Camelot’s histories. It also had the benefit of not requiring mention of worry about his missing manservant, who was supposedly under Arthur and Gaius’ personal observation. “I’ve been thinking about the last sorcerous attack. If Merlin hadn’t thrown himself in the path of that spell...”

“The boy did his duty,” Uther stated.

Arthur met his father’s eyes squarely. “Too many of our victories against magic-users have come of luck or lucky intervention from people who should be non-combatants. I’ve been reviewing our strategies for combating magical threats. Perhaps my analysis is faulty, but there are missing elements from many of them. Our tactics seem to have been developed with the idea that we would have sorcerers fighting with us as well as against us. I’ve even seen battle plans that appear to incorporate some sort of flying unit.”

Uther considered Arthur for a time. “You are correct,” he admitted. “There was a time when Camelot had been deluded into believing that those with magic could be our allies. But I saw the truth and I’ve endeavored to see such lies scourged from our histories even as the practitioners of magic have been purged from our kingdom.”

“How did you manage such successes against them?” Arthur pushed, hoping his suppositions were wrong. He had formed plans to secure Merlin’s safety, but implementing them would mean more than just keeping silent about Merlin’s magic.

Uther grimaced, clearly not happy with the subject. He glowered silently for a moment, then his expression settled into one Arthur was familiar with from lectures about the inner-workings of the kingdom. “There was a schism in their ranks,” Uther explained. “Magic is evil and those corrupted by it have no loyalty even to each other.”

‘Liar.’ Arthur thought but kept his face impassive. ‘Merlin is nothing if not loyal. And Camelot’s disputes with Mercia, Amata and Essetir have less to do with magic than with land.’’

“The Sorcerer who usurped rule of this kingdom from your Great Grandfather was wicked even by the standard of such people. He slaughtered many of his magical brethren in order to steal their power for himself. His greed for power was such that even the High Priestess of the Old Religion and the Dragonlords turned against him. They joined their forces with mine to see him overthrown. When we emerged victorious, the forces of magic were at their nadir and so to buy time they falsely swore themselves to me.”

Arthur felt his last doubts about doing everything in his power to protect Merlin shrivel up and die in a blaze of fury.

“But they put too much faith in their trickery,” Uther continued, unaware of what was going on behind his son’s eyes. “Once I realized the truth, I acted quickly and decisively. I was able to use those sorcerers who sought to maintain the facade of benevolence to weed out their less subtle brethren.”

“And then you turned on those who still served you,” Arthur stated. His hands itched for his sword, because In his mind’s eye he saw Merlin, his loyal-to-a-fault Merlin as one of those sorcerers. They had trusted their king even as he used them as a weapons against his own kind and then, when their usefulness had been spent, Uther had put them down as if they were nothing more than rabid dogs. It only made it worse when it occurred to Arthur that Merlin truly was the spiritual successor to those long dead sorcerers, the latest, perhaps last, child of magic to put his faith in Camelot.

“I ended them before they could put their ultimate plans into motion,” Uther corrected, confirming Arthur’s worst suspicions. The only thing that kept the Prince’s sword sheathed was the knowledge that his temper was one of the reasons Merlin hadn’t trusted him. To himself Arthur swore that he would be the king Merlin believed him to be, a better king than his father had been. He wouldn’t betray the trust placed in him.

The documents Geoffrey had given him showed Arthur the foundation of his idealized Camelot had been laid. Perhaps it had been done out of pragmatism to fight a universal threat, but it had been done. And then something had happened, according to Gaius it had been the actions of one sorcerer that had turned Uther against magic and his father’s contention that ‘to know the heart of one sorcerer was to know them all’ made Gaius’ words ring true. Something had happened and Uther responded by doing all that was in his power to bury that foundation beneath the ashes of the sorcerers he killed.   
  
Rash action wouldn’t see Uther’s betrayal of his magical subjects rectified. It would take time and careful planning to see Camelot’s foundation restored to what it could have been. Arthur sighed; it was going to take subterfuge. But it was his father’s lies that made this necessary.

“We need new tactics, they won’t be caught off guard again,” Arthur stated bluntly, setting his plans to protect Merlin into motion. “I don’t know enough about magic to combat it effectively and our current strategies are less than worthless without allied sorcerers. If I’m to keep Camelot safe I need to be able to consult an expert on the subject of magic.”

Uther considered his son for a long time. “Talk to Gaius,” he said finally. “Before I was enlightened about magic’s true nature Gaius researched magical healing arts as well as scientific ones. He may not have the expertise in battle-magic that you seek; his studies were quite narrow, which likely saved him from magic’s corruption; but he is both knowledgeable about magic and loyal to the crown.”

“Thank you Father,” Arthur said, hiding the satisfaction he felt behind a bland mask of mindless acceptance.

 

* * *

 

‘This isn’t working,’ Merlin thought to himself, as he broke camp for his third day of trying to catch up with the other sorcerer.

He didn’t have his magic book at hand or a prepared spell, but his recent stint as a child had reminded him that he didn’t always need them. His magic worked on an instinctual level. Spells could save him effort by channeling his magic more efficiently, they were more certain because it was his conscious mind that defined them rather than his subconscious, but he didn’t need them.

Merlin took a deep breath, closed his eyes and concentrated all his being on his need to catch up with the other sorcerer. He let the magic inside him bubble up and take form. A wind sprung up in the clearing around twisting leaves and dust into an ever decreasing spiral that slow gained solidity and form. Merlin opened his eyes to see what looked like very like a small dragon, barely larger than a horse if the wing-span was discounted, standing in front of him. The creature roared and bent one knee, inviting Merlin to mount it.

“Not exactly what I was hoping for,” Merlin admitted, but he climbed aboard and the creature leapt into the sky. Merlin whooped with delight. After a few moments he directed the creature to follow the trail marked out by his magic.

“Now this is more like it,” Merlin declared as the terrain sped by beneath them.

 

* * *

 

“I have my father’s permission to consult you as an expert on magic,” Arthur announced, interrupting Gaius’ breakfast.

Gaius blinked at his royal visitor in surprise.

“In a few months I’ll point out the advantages of having an expert on hand in the field. Merlin’s the obvious choice: He’s already apprenticed to you as a healer and I honestly can’t remember the last time I left Camelot without him at my side,” Arthur continued. “Of course you’ll only be permitted to teach Merlin to combat magic, not to use it but it will safely explain his knowledge of the subject.”

“It’s a good plan,” Gaius admitted.

“Don’t sound so surprised, I’ve commanded Camelot’s military for three years now, I do know a thing or two about making a battle plan,” Arthur humphed. “Father’s permitted this so that I will be better prepared to carry on his fight against magic, but I won’t be used to forward his vendetta any longer. I will not allow my reign to be based on lies and ignorance. First I want to know how many others like Merlin are out there?”

“There is no one else like Merlin,” Gaius said with a small smile. “But if you mean children born with magic? About a third of us have enough magical ability to develop expertise in it’s use. It’s a matter of study and practice, and most chose specific discipline to focus on. Before the Purge I had a respectable ability as a healer as well as a physician.”

Gaius paused. “Then there are those born with so much magic that it bursts forth from them whether or not they make any effort to awake it. Approximately one in a hundred children are born like this. They don’t study magic to gain strength so much as to channel or control the fires raging in their blood.”

“While Merlin was little I overheard...”Arthur began.

Gaius’ eyebrow rose at Arthur’s admission of eavesdropping. “Yes, Hunith asked for my help when Merlin’s magic became uncontrollable. The exercises, being mentally centered helped to prevent spontaneous manifestation of his magic. When magic is that strong in a person using it is a reflexive response.”

Without warning Gaius knocked a jar off his table. Arthur lunged forward, catching it before it could shatter. Gaius nodded. “Your physical reflexes are superb, Sire. As would be expected from a knight. If I did that to Merlin, his first reaction would be to reach out with his magic.”

“Even if he wanted to, Merlin couldn’t stop using magic,” Arthur realized.

Gaius shook his head. “He could try, but eventually he’d be surprised or in desperate need and would react with his magic, just like you would reach out with your hand to stop yourself from falling. It’s safer and a more realistic goal for Merlin to train himself to react with subtle magic than for him to try to repress it all together.”

“But less honest,” Arthur muttered, even while he acknowledged the need for subterfuge a part of him still resented it.

Gaius gave Arthur a reproving look. “Ahh yes, honesty. Such a peerless virtue. If Hunith had been more rigorously honest Merlin would never have lied to you... He would have been drowned like an unwanted kitten before he spoke his first words.”

Arthur flinched. “I do understand why he lied, but you can’t expect me to enjoy being kept in the dark, it seems everyone has been lying to me,” he said thinking of his father. “And now there’s Merlin’s most recent bout of secrecy- He should have told me the thief was a sorcerer! I think lies and secrecy have become so ingrained in Merlin, and in you, that you’re incapable of trusting.”

“I’ve grown old by exercising caution,” Gaius replied. “The truth can be more deadly than a sword. Most of my friends and peers died, impaled upon it’s blade. I would not see Merlin become yet another victim of carelessly given truths.”

“I’m going to break Merlin of reflexive lying,” Arthur declared. At Gaius’ look he back-peddled a bit. “I know his magic has to stay a secret, I’m trying to help him keep it from my father remember? But lies and secrets can’t be our habitual mode of operation. They have to be a conscious choice. It should be lies that are sparingly doled out as needed not the truth.”

“Then change the laws,” Gaius challenged. “Don’t make it a crime to be born.”

“When I’m king I will,” Arthur stated. “But when I do I’m going to need Merlin to step forward. Right now, I’m not sure he has it in him to ever leave the shadows.”

* * *

 

“Okay, you can go now,” Merlin told the beast he’d summoned into being. “Dissolve back into dust or something.” The small dragon-like creature gave him a friendly nuzzle that all but knocked the warlock off his feet. Merlin signed, he really should have learned the spell to de-animate things back when Valiant had been causing problems instead of just sneaking his dog statue turned flesh and blood into the royal kennels. He let his magic bubble to the surface, “Shoo!” he ordered, his eyes glowing gold.

The dragon creature looked at Merlin sadly, then turned and wandered off. “Make me feel like I kicked a puppy,” Merlin muttered to himself. “But it’s not as if I can sneak in with a mini-Dragon tagging along at my heels.”

The sorcerer’s trail had ultimately led him here, to a circle of standing stones and a gathering of people wearing mystica- looking burgundy cloaks that swept the ground and had deep cowls. Merlin decided he thoroughly approved of their fashion sense as he slipped up behind one man and used a rock to knock him unconscious. ‘Bigger blind-spot than a knight with his helmet on,’ Merlin thought cheerfully as he dragged the man into the bushes, tied and gagged him, then tried on the cloak. ‘And just my size.’

Merlin had just begun to infiltrate the group when the ceremony reached a crescendo. Arthur’s stolen laundry lay on an altar at the center of the gathering, in a carefully drawn circle, the leader’s eyes flashed “Forbaerne!” he commanded. As smoke began to rise from the garments, he commanded “Abannan se agend!”

A vortex formed in the clearing before the altar. As the spell did it’s work the leader spoke once more, “Let the Triple Goddess look upon what we do here and be pleased.”

* * *

 

After leaving Gaius Arthur sequestered himself in the library.

“How did you find the document I recommended?” Geoffrey asked.

“Educational,” Arthur replied then asked, “Why didn’t my father change that law?”

“Because the charter was the start of his reign, it’s signing marked the restoration of Camelot to it’s rightful ruler,” Geoffrey explained. “It’s historical significance, for King Uther in particular, is beyond compare. To amend it would be all but unthinkable, particularly not when one could simply alter the interpretation rather than the text.”

“Do you have any other recommendations?” Arthur asked and Geoffrey smiled.

Once Geoffrey left him to his research Arthur decided to attempt an experiment of his own. He resolved that for the rest of the day he would only use his left hand. Arthur wanted to know what it felt like for Merlin to not use his magic and after Gaius’ explanation it seemed like a way to experience it for himself. Eventually Arthur had to give it up as impossible unless he took measures to restrain his right hand; it’s use was simply too reflexive. To continue Arthur switched, allowing himself the use of his dominant hand. Even then he found he had to think about not using one hand constantly. Every moment, with every action he had to remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to use his left hand. After an hour Arthur was irritated beyond belief, even as a self-imposed limitation it felt wrong to deny a part of himself.

In his training as a knight Arthur had spent years strengthening his non-dominant side, training himself to view every part of his body as a weapon. Even in a tourney, where strict rules of combat were observed he used his shield-arm to shove opponents off-balance. Given an opening he wouldn’t hesitate to launch a kick. As a knight Arthur trained himself as a unit, sword and shield, brain and brawn, every part of him focused on a single goal. Merlin survived by dividing himself, magical against physical, what he was allowed to do verse what he could do. ‘Maybe that’s why he’s so hopelessly clumsy,’ Arthur thought. ‘I can’t teach him competence with a sword because he has to focus so much of himself on not revealing his magic. Merlin is never allowed to use all his resources.’

But magic... Magic always seemed like cheating. ‘Only because Camelot eschews it,’ Arthur realized. ‘If Gaius can be believed a third of us could learn to use magic, that’s more than are allowed to become knights under Camelot’s First Law.’ Still the thought of using magic in a battle struck Arthur as fundamentally dishonest, a gross departure from the tenants of honorable combat. Arthur thought back to his second meeting with Merlin. ‘In retrospect it’s obvious he used magic against me during that fight. There is no honest way an untrained peasant could have possibly held his own against a knight.’

Arthur felt a flush of mortification creeping up his neck. ‘There was no way a peasant like Merlin should have been able to hold his own against me. Merlin didn’t seek out that fight, he tried to walk away but I wouldn’t let him.’ Arthur closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. ‘Here I am whining about the unfairness of using magic, but I forced an untrained boy into a fight he couldn’t possibly win just to sooth my ego. I didn’t care about what was fair when I should have had the advantage did I?’ Arthur sighed ‘At least that time I didn’t top it off by using my position to punish him for not being as easy to humble as I thought he’d be. That would have been beyond prattish.’

Arthur was about to reach for the next text when he felt what seemed like an enormous hand wrap around him and was snatched away. For several long moments the world was replaced by a swirling vortex of magic. When it cleared Camelot’s library was gone, replaced by a weathered circle of standing stones. Over two dozen heavily cloaked figures surrounded Arthur.

The prince drew his sword with a flourish and set himself to fight, despite the utter hopelessness of the situation. A sudden movement drew his eye, one of the cloaked figures had apparently been in the middle of trying to shove his way forward when Arthur had been summoned there. Merlin.

Arthur’s shoulders relaxed, he sheathed his sword and took a moment to make a more thorough survey of his surroundings. He nodded toward the smoldering pile of fabric, “I suppose this answers the question of what anyone would want with my dirty laundry,” he remarked.

The sorcerers shifted uncertainly. Arthur’s reaction wasn’t in the least what they’d expected.

One of their number stepped forward and lowered her cowl to reveal the sorceress who had attached Arthur before. “What became of that boy who sought to protect you before?” she asked with a sneer. “Do his ashes already darken Camelot’s walls, yet another child of the Old Religion murdered by a Pendragon?”

Merlin could see what Arthur intended and let his magic run free to support him. It swirled around Merlin, turning his robe a brilliant blue, setting him apart from the gathering as he took his place at Arthur’s side. “I’m doing well, thanks,” he said, deepening his voice to disguise it. “Now that I’m free of your brother’s spell that is.”

If the sorcerers had been unsettled by Arthur, Merlin utterly flabbergasted them.

Arthur gave Merlin a quick smile and tried not to squirm as Merlin’s magic wrapped itself around him, changing his casual clothes into his full court regalia. “You might have warned me that I was going to be requested for an audience.”

Merlin shrugged. “Sorry, if I’d known what they were up to I would have suggested going through the proper channels.”

“This isn’t an audience!” the group’s leader snapped, feeling his control over the situation slipping away. “You, Arthur Pendragon, have been summoned to atone for all your family’s sins against our people!”

Arthur met the other man’s eyes calmly. “Since I’ve come to know… Emrys here I’ve begun examining Camelot’s laws and history.”

“Emrys!?” One of the sorcerers exclaimed, trying to get a better look at Merlin.

Arthur ignored him. “Among Camelot’s founding laws it is written that any malicious act of magic is punishable by death. I am still trying to learn the source of my father’s insanity that has caused him to interpret every act of magic as malicious. I apologize for his miscarriage of justice and will do everything in my power to prevent any further abuses of our law.”

“You will do more than apologize,” the leader snarled.

Merlin raised one hand, his eyes glowed within the shadows of his cowl. “No he will not,” he stated. “I will not allow this cycle of retribution to continue. Not when there is finally a real chance to end it.”

“Are you truly Emrys,” one asked.

“The druids call me that,” Merlin confirmed.

Arthur stepped away from Merlin. He turned slowly, looking at each of the sorcerers in turn. “I will uphold Camelot’s laws,” he said firmly. “Not the perversion that they have become. Tell your people that this is both my promise and my warning to them: When I am king those who would live in peace will have no reason to fear Camelot. But those who would attack us will wish it was my father they face.”

“What could you do that your father hasn’t already?”

Arthur glanced significantly at Merlin. “What do you think?”

Suddenly the air filled with a shining white mist, it swirled through the stones and around each person present before coalescing into the indistinct figure of a woman.

“Is this you?” Arthur whispered to Merlin.

The young warlock shook his head. “They invoked the Triple Goddess to bare witness when you were summoned… But I don’t know what that means for us.”

“The time of the Once and Future King dawns,” the woman declared in a voice that was simultaneously young and old and that seemed to echo through their bones. “But the shape of his reign is still in flux.” A tendril of mist reached out for Merlin and his enveloping cloak reshaped itself into his normal garb. “Emrys stands at his King’s side, not only as advisor but also as a signal flame. His fate reveals the fate of all Children of the Old Ways.”

Merlin fidgeted under the sudden scrutiny but Arthur put a calming hand on his shoulder and looked up at the figure. “You are right,” he agreed. “Merlin is my sworn retainer, his well-being is my responsibility as the well-being of all Camelot’s subjects will be my responsibility when I am King. That he has magic does not and should not change my obligation to him as my subject, or his obligation to me as his king.”

“Remember your words today, Once and Future King,” the woman declared. The mist lost form and streamed away, people in it’s path scrambled backwards leaving an opening in the sorcerer’s ranks.

“I think that’s our cue to leave,” Merlin said quietly. Arthur nodded and walked calmly through the gathering of sorcerers, Merlin at his side, out of the circle of standing stones and into the night.

 


	11. Epilogue: For Merlin

“Maybe we can buy horses,” Merlin babbled as they plodded along the road to Camelot. None of the sorcerers had found the nerve to go after them, but it was a long walk back and Merlin wasn’t sure if Arthur would appreciate the steed his magic had produced… assuming Merlin could call it back in the first place. “Or borrow them, or something.”  
  
Arthur remained coldly silent for several minutes then asked accusingly “So… this is ‘gathering herbs’?”

Merlin glanced way. “I didn’t have time to tell you,” he protested. “The trail was already going cold by the time I realized how much trouble he could cause.”

“And when he stole the clothes in the first place you had no idea he was a sorcerer?” Arthur asked sarcastically. “I mean you fell down the stairs, you weren’t knocked down by a spell or anything were you?”

Merlin flushed, confirming Arthur’s guess about his manservant’s earlier injuries. “I didn’t want you calling out the knights,” Merlin admitted. “You know how it works in Camelot; the whole city would have been rousted searching for accomplices and co-conspirators. Who knows who would have been arrested before the King was satisfied, innkeepers... Blacksmiths.” Merlin stopped himself mid rant and looked away.

Arthur decided not to address what had happened to Guinevere’s father. “So basically you still don’t trust me.”

Merlin hunched his shoulders and stared at the ground.

Arthur forced a smile and clapped Merlin on the shoulder and only a little bit too hard at that. “We’re going to work on your trust issues,” he declared. “I have a plan.”

Merlin looked up, his eyes wide with alarm.

“First off, I swear I’ll consult with you or Gaius before taking action against a magical threat,” Arthur said. “In return, you will tell me about any potential threats as soon as you learn of them. If you don’t... well, I think I could do without your services for a week or so, the castle middens always need dredging. I imagine that job will make mucking out the stables seem like a stroll through a rose garden, and anyone could walk by at any moment, so you won’t be able to cheat.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, his mouth gaping open. The look of utter befuddlement on his manservant’s face did wonders for Arthur’s mood.

“Then you’re going to tell Guinevere about your magic,” Arthur continued cheerfully.

“WHAT!” Merlin exclaimed. “Do you remember anything I said?”

“You said that if you were ever found out Guinevere would be endangered because she’s your friend. That being the case, don’t you think she should know what she risks?” Arthur replied. “Once she knows she can help divert attention when you need to use your magic. Besides you need practice in telling people about yourself and she’s a good choice. I can’t imagine Guinevere ever hurting anyone and she’s good at keeping secrets. You have no idea what I put her through back when we were thirteen and I wanted to know where Morgana hid her diary. The only possible reason you could have for not telling Guinevere is if you don’t trust her.”

“You don’t play fair,” Merlin protested sulkily.

“I play to win,” Arthur replied. “On that note, I don’t like you fighting alone. There’s too much risk of being blind-sided.”

“Do you see any other magic-users signing up to spend time in Camelot without them being out to kill you?” Merlin asked.

“I meant the knights,” Arthur said. “My father tried to hide it, but sorcerers used to fight alongside us in battle.” Arthur’s face darkened angrily, “He hamstrung us! Now that I know what I’m looking at, I can see how the old tactics were designed to shield our sorcerers. I can see how they were vulnerable by how the units were arrayed. But my father hid all that from us. He sent my knights and I into battle with a bag over our heads and our ears stuffed with wool because he couldn’t stand to admit that there was ever a time when we weren’t at war with magic.”

“Arthur?” Merlin asked uncertainly.

“I’m going to tell the knights our real history,” Arthur continued. “Then we’re going to pick apart the old battle tactics and figure out how you really fight sorcerers. We’re going to do a better job defending this kingdom armed with truth instead of my father’s lies. Once they see the damage my father’s lies have done to us, I’ll tell them the truth of Camelot’s laws on magic.”

Merlin looked alarmed. “Isn’t that dangerous? What if they-”

Arthur sighed. “They already know. Deep down they know. All of us who have fought against magic know that the stories about how Camelot was purged of evil magic are a lie. They’ll accept the truth from me: A generation ago knights and mages rode into battle together for Camelot and we were stronger for it.”

Merlin’s smile was luminous.

“Until I’m king we’ll have to be circumspect.” Arthur grimaced, “I won’t alway be able to watch out for you as much as I’d like while we’re still keeping your magic secret... I’m going to start bringing my knights along on our hunting trips, only one at a time so you can get to know them. And then you are going to pick a few to take into your confidence about magic.”

Merlin’s smile crumpled into a look of sheer terror.

Arthur stopped, his eyes lighting with a new idea. “You should write Lancelot. The two of you certainly hit it off when he was here and he has the makings of a great knight, to hell with this noble-blood crap. If you can stand hiding your magic, he can take a humble position until I’m king. It’ll give him more freedom than most of the knights to keep you out of trouble.”

“Er.. About Lance...”


End file.
